


Blood Stutter

by slambage



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hunger Games AU, hhgau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 76,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slambage/pseuds/slambage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Laura is drawn as a tribute for the 33rd annual Hunger Games, it's clear the odds are not in her favour. Ripped away from her quiet life in District 7, she is paired with the insufferable Carmilla Karnstein, a mysterious girl who seems to know a lot more about the games than she should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Laura Hollis.”

The magnified words that echoed through the square were immediately followed by her Dad’s scream. 

The sea of bodies around her swiveled until she was surrounded by the gaze of children and adults alike. She felt a touch between her shoulder blades and realised with muted horror that someone was giving her a slight push towards the stage.

_Oh my God. This can’t be happening._

Even as she managed to take a shaky step forward, her breathing began to hyperventilate and she felt the bitter taste of bile rise in her throat and stain the inside of her mouth with its acrid tang. The sounds of her father’s anguish followed her like a wounded animal as she reached the bottom of the stairs and took the first shaky steps up to the stage that had been erected in front of the Justice Hall.

“LAURA! NO! LAURA!”

Everything else was disarmingly silent as she stepped onto the stage and faced Amanda Amodeo-Luxbury, District 7’s escort. Her face was stretched into a grim parody of a natural smile.

“Laura?” She asked, holding out her gloved hand.

“STOP! You can’t! That’s my girl!” The sounds of her dad sobbing reached her on the stage. Amidst a blur of faceless bystanders she saw several other adults in a crowd around him, trying to quieten him before the peacekeepers decided to intervene.

Swinging her gaze back around to the women in dizzying close proximity to her, Laura nodded dumbly and let Amanda guide her to a spot right next to her, where she stood and faced the crowd. In the large, unmoving mob in front of her she spotted two of her friends from school, only the crowns of their heads visible as they stared determinedly at the ground. Laura knew they were avoiding eye contact with her. Knew also, that their feelings of relief that they had not been chosen far outweighed their grief that Laura had been.

Amanda started to speak again, but Laura’s head was buzzing and heart was pumping so loudly that she could barely hear her. Her Dad sat in a forlorn heap on the ground, a concerned ring of adults around him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to exhale the poisonous fear beginning to pollute her body. 

Opening her eyes once again to the unforgiving glare of the sun, she immediately spotted movement in the crowd. A shift rippled through the mob as several people moved out the way of a dark-haired girl who was taking a steady path to the front.

Amanda was oblivious of the girl’s unusual actions, continuing to spew forth meaningless babble as she moved over to the bowl once more to pick the second tribute, and by the time she pulled out the second slip of paper, the girl stood at the foot of the stairs. 

With a flourish, Amanda held the death sentence at arms-length, cleared her throat and leaned closer to the microphone.

“Carmilla Karnstein!”

The crowd was utterly still. 

Everyone’s eyes, including Laura’s, were fixated on the mysterious girl who had now made it to the top of the stairs. Even Amanda finally noticed her and joined everyone in watching as she slouched past the both of them and stopped on the other side of Amanda - right where the other tribute should stand.

A muffled stream of chatter ran through the crowd as Amanda stared at the girl, struggling to mask the confusion manifesting on her powdered face. The girl kept her head down, determinedly keeping her eyes trained on her shoes. She was wearing a delicate, lacy black dress, and her dark wavy hair hung in waves, framing her face, so that even as Laura leaned forward, she couldn’t make out whether she knew her. She studied the girl, and wondered briefly whether she would rather have a familiar face accompany the second tribute, knowing with certainty she would never wish a loved one to this fate, yet wishing desperately not to have to take the lonely journey ahead on her own. 

“You must be Carmilla!” Amanda beamed after a short moment of tense silence, her fixed smile a forceful contradiction to her flustered tone. Finally the girl looked up, her eyes locking immediately with Laura’s. She held the intense gaze for only half a second before shifting her attention to the left to focus on Amanda. She had a sharp nose, angular cheekbones and dark eyes and lips, the latter of which were currently twisted into a sneer. She looked about Laura’s age or just older, but as Laura’s eyes scanned the other girl’s features, she realised she had never seen her before.

“Must I be?” The girl drawled.

“Well then!” Clearly trying to maintain her composure despite the odd premature appearance of the second tribute, Amanda clapped her hands together and cleared her throat. “It seems the odds are in your favour this year, District 7!” She chirped. “Two strong, mature female tributes. Laura Hollis and Carmilla Karnstein. Let’s wish them the best!”

Mature, compared to some of the unlucky 12 and 13 year olds chosen in the past they may be, but strong? Carmilla was only slightly taller than Laura, and very slight. The swath of black lace did little to hide her sharp elbows and fine-boned limbs. Not to mention her skin was so pale she looked almost sickly, as though she rarely saw sunlight; unusual for someone who lived in District 7. 

All the jobs children were allowed to work in involved being outside, and as District 7 was so hot, they spent hours with the sun beating down on them - Laura herself was heavily tanned as a testament to this, as were the other kids her age. Most children over 14 helped their families out in the forest, felling trees in the morning and afternoons, and attending school during the day. Laura had begun working with her father as soon as she was old enough, partly to help bring in money but also simply because she liked the hands-on work, and keeping busy.

The felled trees were transported to huge factories in the middle of the district which transformed the trees into crisp, white paper. Each day they shipped off thousands of leafs of paper to the capitol, and to a lesser extent, the other districts.

Clearly Carmilla had no family to join in the forest with her porcelain skin seemingly untouched by the harsh sunlight that Laura and other workers endured everyday. Yet she also couldn’t work in the factories, as the district law required workers to be over 19 years of age. It was strange, too, that Laura couldn’t recall a single time she had laid eyes on this girl, as District 7 was not a hugely populated district, and there was only one high school, which everyone was required to attend until they were 18.

Amanda began to read the Treaty of Treason. The treaty explained the new laws that were put in place to guarantee peace after the thirteen districts staged an uprising against the Capitol, a period of time named the Dark Days. In response the Capitol defeated twelve of the districts and destroyed the thirteenth. But the Capitol’s victory bore another repercussion for the rebellious districts - the Hunger Games, a yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, and the reason Laura was standing here, having just been selected to participate in the deathly tournament.

The rules of the Hunger Games were simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide two children between the ages of 12 to 18, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes would be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena within which the competitors must fight to the death. To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol treated the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others, where the last standing tribute wins. 

Laura watched as Carmilla folded her arms across her chest and resumed her staring at her feet, looking as though she was positively bored with the whole situation. While Laura could agree that the Treaty was long and dull, it was baffling to her that Carmilla could stand there looking so unaffected. Wasn’t she in shock? Where was the sadness at having to leave her family behind, with slimmer than slim chances she’d ever see them again? Didn’t she feel like screaming as Laura did now, as she tried to block out thoughts of their impending doom?

When Amanda finished speaking she turned around and motioned for Laura and Carmilla to shake hands. As Laura turned towards the other girl she noticed her actions mirrored behind her out of the corner of her eye. In all the blurred panic of the last few minutes, she’d forgotten that of course the entirety of the reaping was filmed, meaning her actions were being beamed live in the capitol at that moment. Two huge temporary screens hung on the wall behind her, and she watched as the Carmilla on the TV stepped towards her. 

Although it almost seemed like a betrayal to her old life, the blinding shock inhabiting her body was slowly being joined by a grudging acceptance. How unjust the situation was didn’t change the fact she would have to fight for her life. Knowing the other tributes would watch this at some point, she squared her shoulders, hoping to dispel the illusion of an easy target. It felt like she was confirming her fate, that she wasn’t getting out of this. Her brain had already switched into tactic mode. 

Vaguely sickened, Laura tore her eyes away from the screen and offered her hand to Carmilla, who was already watching her, through eyes that seemed simultaneously disregardful and calculating. They shook hands and turned back to face the crowd as the first strains of the anthem of Panem began. Amanda beamed her unnervingly wide smile at the crowd, Carmilla maintained her bored expression, and the crowd stared silently back at them, a faceless entity of individuals who may have harboured pity for the two girls, but stood their ground in the knowledge that Laura and Carmilla took the place which otherwise could have been filled by themselves, their children, their siblings or their friends. 

As for Laura, well, she hadn’t puked all over her shoes yet, so that was definitely a positive.

On the downside, she was going to be dead within weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

A group of peacekeepers approached them as soon as the melody of the anthem was distilled into the air, and marched them quickly through the large double doors at the back of the stage. The doors lead to a large hallway, with plush green carpet covering the floor and expensive doors made of oak spread out periodically along the wall, presumably leading to many different rooms. 

The next hour was when the tributes were allowed to say goodbye to their family and loved-ones, a chance Laura intended to take full advantage of, though 60 minutes to properly farewell her father and thank him for everything he’d ever done for her, would be nowhere near enough.

It seemed Carmilla had different thoughts to her though, as she resisted the efforts of a peacekeeper who was trying to push her towards a door identical to the one Laura was already being lead towards.

“This is really not necessary,” she argued. “There’ll be no one waiting for me.”

“The goodbye session is customary,” one peacekeeper replied, looking to his partner with a small measure of uncertainty. It was probably extremely rare for a tribute to refuse their last chance to see their family, and he seemed unsure of the protocol.

“I’d rather not spent an hour by myself looking at a wall. Can’t you take me straight to the train?”

“You must travel together with the other tribute to the train,” the other peacekeeper intervened in an overly reasonable tone, as though Carmilla was a small irrational child. “You have to wait the full hour while the other tribute -”

That was all Laura was able to hear, because the heavy door swung shut behind her, effectively silencing the sounds of the argument. She was left alone in a large room with only a few plush chairs for furniture. Taking a few nervous steps around the room, Laura tried to order her panicked thoughts into a farewell for her father that would hopefully leave him comforted, though it was difficult imagining him accepting her imminent death when she could hardly wrap her mind around the idea.

Her train of thought was cut off abruptly as the door swung upon with force and her father was delivered into the room by two Peacekeepers, each with a hand like a vise on his upper arm, who then promptly left the room, pulling the door shut behind them. In the ensuing seconds of silence, Laura and her father’s gazes were locked, connected by the unspoken knowledge that their relationship as father and daughter was coming to a close. The concept of leaving the one omnipresent figure in her life was incomprehensible and stream of words poured out of Laura’s mouth uncontrollably, to avoid the compressing silence.

“Don’t worry, Dad - I’ll take care of myself, I promise. You’ll be fine - the neighbours will help out - and don’t forget you still have the tessera. You should be fine as long as you ration it - you remember how much to use - ? I showed you, right? I showed you last year? You won’t forget to - ?”

Her father cut her off wordlessly, lifting his hand. For the first time since he entered the room, Laura looked properly at him. Tear tracks were stark on his face; his eyes red-rimmed and his stance was defensive and wary, as if he expected a Peacekeeper to swoop in and take Laura away. He held out his arms and Laura collapsed into him, letting the emotions of the past half hour brew over and manifest themselves into hacking sobs, as her father rocked her back and forth. 

“I’m so sorry,” she kept whispering over and over into his chest as he shushed her.

Even though the whole situation didn’t quite seem real, and her brain was having trouble wrapping around the fact that she would never see her father again, saying goodbye to him was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. He stayed for the whole hour and not once did he mention the Games, which Laura was immensely grateful for. 

Eventually the peacekeepers returned and her Dad hugged her tightly one last time before he was led out of sight forever. Two more peacekeepers grasped her by the elbows and she let herself be marched out of the room, wiping the dried tears from her face as she went. They took her to a car which would take them directly to the train station and she slid in the backseat next to Carmilla who was slumped back against the headrest, asleep. Thankful that the other girl was unavailable for conversation, Laura looked out the window and regarded the only home she’d ever had through a mist of wrenching sorrow as the car rumbled to life and drove away from the Justice Hall. 

***

They made it onto the train, which pulled out the moment the doors shut behind them, and Laura felt crushing relief at being away from the flashing cameras and deafening noise. The interior of the tribute train was overbearingly ornate. Rich colours and gold embellishments adorned every surface.The presence of such detailed features was almost stifling and Laura felt strangely cramped, though the room was spacious for a train car.

Amanda Amodeo-Luxbury was already there, and led them both through a set of glass double doors. They walked through a large dining room, where a large mahogany table sat in the center, and then directed them both to their separate quarters.

Each girl had a room to themselves, including a huge double bed, a flat-screen TV that covered almost the entirety of the end wall, a dresser and an adjoining bathroom. Laura stood in the room for several lifeless minutes, staring blankly at the intricate folds of the curtains. How could such material items mean anything to her? Yesterday she would have been overwhelmingly excited to be staying in a room fit for a princess. Now nothing could dull the misery gnawing at her insides. 

Amanda had requested they be ready for dinner in an hour and so Laura sifted through the drawers for a clean set of clothes to shower and change into. A pair of super comfy looking sweatpants seriously tempted her, but she decided she should do her best to look presentable, and settled on jeans and a button down shirt. The drawers were so full it was actually difficult to push them shut again; the amount of clothes provided was way past overkill for their overnight journey. Possibly the abundance of clothes would be kept here all year until they were needed by whoever was lucky enough to be chosen as the next tribute. Possibly, these clothes had been here for the last tribute who occupied this room, a girl whose body would now be decomposing in the ground. A shiver of revulsion crawled down her back.

Despite taking much longer in the shower than she usually would due to experiencing hot water for the first time, Laura was still the first one to arrive at the dining table. It was long, with 6 chairs on each side. Unsure if they had assigned places, she chose a spot second from the end at random and watched the clock on the panelled wall opposite as she waited for the others. 

The hands on the ornate clock crept around to 6pm and Laura still found herself alone in the room. It was only until several minutes had passed that Carmilla Karnstein entered the room wearing an all black ensemble, complete with several heavy studded bracelets on her wrists. A brief flicker of surprise passed over her face when she saw only Laura there. She regarded her silently for a second, before sweeping past pointedly to settle in a chair at the far end of the table, on the opposite side. Without a word, she swung her feet up onto the corner of the table and began to pick at her fingernails. 

Laura bristled. Not only had she just been wrenched away from her father and sent to live with a group of strangers before she attempted to kill them all or die herself, but she was also stuck with a district partner who apparently refused to acknowledge her existence? No way was this happening. Fueled with defiance, Laura pushed herself up from the table and then slid her chair back in - making sure it scraped against the floor loudly as she did so - before marching down to the end of the table and plopping into the seat opposite Carmilla. 

“Hi!” She stuck her hand out right in Carmilla’s face. Carmilla regarded her hand briefly with contempt, raised her eyebrows, and continued to pick at her nails. Nails which, Laura could see from their close proximity were utterly mutilated, the ends of each finger bloodied and raw. 

“Hey!” When Carmilla ignored her hand Laura swept it hard to the right in a surge of anger, knocking Carmilla’s heavy boots off the table and nearly sending the other girl sprawling. Carmilla glared at Laura like she was crazy while she righted herself, gripping the edge of the table.

“Laura Hollis. You know, the district partner you’ll be spending the next two weeks with before we’re both sent to our deaths?” Barely masked exasperation lined her words.

“I’m aware,” Carmilla finally muttered. 

“Excellent.” Laura’s tone clearly showed her irritation at Carmilla’s hostility. “Care to introduce yourself? Make some polite conversation?” When Carmilla failed to respond yet again Laura threw her arms in the air in frustration. “Are you seriously going to give me the silent treatment until the games?”

Carmilla snorted and the corner of her mouth twitched upwards, showing more emotion than she had all day. “It would seem so.” 

Laura stood up suddenly, knocking her chair backwards in the process, and slammed her hands down on the table. 

“Okay, look here Miss Broody Mc-Douchepants. I have had a very, very bad day. The worst of my life actually, and quite possibly one of the last. So if you think I’m going to go into that arena to fight to the death with 22 other strangers without even knowing a thing about my district partner then you’ve got another think coming. Start talking.”

There was a beat of silence as tension hung thick in the air. Very slowly, Carmilla crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, levelling a disdainful gaze at Laura.

“That bunched-up face you make when you’re angry is hilarious, buttercup. What are you, 5 feet tall? Very cute.” Venom dripped from her words. “I bet you won’t last 1 day in the arena.”

Oh that was it! Laura’s blood boiled. Seriously? Who did this girl think she was? Okay, so Laura herself wasn’t exactly confident on surviving even the first hour of the Games, let alone 24 of them strung together, but that was so not the point here. 

“I will have you know that I’m a perfectly respectable 5’2” and -”

Her rage-filled tirade stuttered to a halt as the compartment door slid open. Amanda flounced in adjusting the tower of hair - brown with hot pink accents - balancing precariously on her head, followed closely by a woman Laura recognised to be District 7’s only living champion. 

She studied her with interest - tall and long-limbed, with long red hair and glasses rimming her eyes, Tiffany McKenna was young, having won the 24th games when she was 16 years old. Champions sometimes became big celebrities after their games, but Tiffany had mostly kept to herself and managed to stay out of the limelight. Even so, she was on their TV at home often enough, appearing in commercials and such for the Capitol, as was required by all the Champions. 

During the training period and even while in the arena Tiffany would act as their mentor, as did the most recent winner from each district with their own tributes. The mentor's responsibilities were pivotal in giving their tributes a chance at survival; they advised them, organised sponsors and consequently chose when to deliver any gifts to the girls during the Games. 

“Ah, girls! Good to see you’re getting acquainted. I’d like to introduce you to someone I’m sure you’ve both seen around the place; District 7’s very own Tiffany McKenna!”

Tiffany crossed the room in only a few paces and shook hands firmly with them both. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Better circumstances?” Amanda parroted, pushing Tiffany into the seat next to Laura’s and then settling next to Carmilla - who looked less than pleased with the seating arrangements. “What could be better than the beautiful dinner we’re about to have?” She spoke directly to the two girls then. “Only the very top chefs are allowed to cook for the tributes, so you’ll be eating the very best food the capitol has to offer, and that’s saying something.”

Indeed it was, as moments later their first course was brought out, large silver bowls with piles of colourful salads and crisp bread rolls, followed soon after by steaming trays of steak, potatoes and vegetables. 

Laura had never seen so much food in one place in her life, let alone served for only four people to eat. Not wanting to waste anything, she did her best to eat as much as she could; hardly an arduous task as the food was so delicious it was unlike anything she had ever tasted. She had to resist the urge to simply stuff her face - at home she and her father never bothered with cutlery; it wasn’t like anyone else was watching them eat. The knife and fork were difficult to maneuver and although she did her best to mimic Amanda’s actions, she only realised she was holding her utensils in the wrong hands halfway through her second steak. 

The food itself was not anything Laura hadn’t seen before, it was just that her father never had the extra money to spill on special toppings and sauces. The only food imported to the districts was the leftovers from what the Capitol didn’t need. 

By the time she’d downed her second plate, she was starting to feel ill and regret how much she’d stuffed herself. Opposite her, Carmilla expertly cut her meat into thin slices and ate slowly, in stark contrast to the way Laura had engulfed everything on her plate. Surprisingly, Amanda kept right up with Laura, polishing off two servings of everything before excusing herself for a minute and leaving the room. When she returned, Laura forced herself to lift her forehead off the table where she had been doubled over, trying to keep the contents of her stomach from coming right back up, only for Amanda to announce that the last course was always saved best for last. Dessert!

Now this was something Laura wasn’t used to. The waiters brought out a selection of treats, ranging from doughnuts, which she had tried on only two occasions previously, to delicacies she had neither seen nor heard of before like pavlova and what were apparently called chocolate eclairs. 

Even Carmilla’s eyes lit up at the feast set down in front of them and they both dug in, Laura completely forgetting she was only debating with herself whether she was going to need to dash to a bathroom to throw up not two minutes ago. 

Finally, after she’d tried a little bit of everything and watched Carmilla absolutely devour an entire croquembouche pyramid, the table was cleared and Amanda led them to another compartment to watch a recap of all the reapings from earlier that day. 

Each district’s reaping was staggered throughout the day for the convenience of the viewers in the Capitol, who were able to watch the tributes being selected from one district after another. They were then replayed back to back over the next few days, commentary and all. She noticed with slight discomfort that Amanda and Tiffany kept referring to the other tributes as their ‘competition’. Laura watched the unlucky teens have their names called again and again and felt nothing but the staggering empathy that always encompassed her as she watched the Reapings. Her own participation made no difference. 

The richer districts like 1, 2 and 4, in which winning the Games was regarded as a great honour, often had volunteers, whereby kids actually chose to risk their lives and enter the games by their own freewill. These kids were known as ‘careers’, and would sometimes team up together in the arena to make a formidable team. 

This year was no different. District 1 boasted two volunteers, both strong looking girls, and District 2’s volunteers were even bigger - two boys, one stout and one tall and lanky with broad shoulders. There were no volunteers from any of the other districts, but a District 4 tribute - a stocky guy with dark hair - was notable because of his unusual expression - devoid of the fear that was present among all other tributes. He stood on stage looking absolutely relaxed with his hands in his pockets, a small smirk playing on his face as the anthem blared. Laura was reminded of Carmilla standing on the stage, expressionless.

No other Districts had noticeably unusual reapings. The rest of the video was a parade of terrified faces and wobbly knees, and children chosen so young that Laura’s heart wrenched for them. One girl from District 8 promptly burst into tears when her name was called and had to be carried on stage by a couple of peacekeepers. 

When it came to District 7, Laura noticed with surprise that she appeared remarkably calm - at odds with the fear that had been raging inside her. Carmilla’s unorthodox appearance was directly after hers and the video had become heavily edited, so much so that she wasn’t even shown on stage until her name had been called. The camera cut away with expert precision, erasing Carmilla’s unusual behaviour and Amanda’s thinly veiled befuddlement. 

Later that night, Laura lay in the comfortable bed provided for her, sleep evading her as her district partner’s strange actions playing heavily on her mind. Carmilla had somehow either predicted or known that her name was going to be called before it was, that much was clear. But the reapings were completely random, and such knowledge should be impossible to obtain. The only possible explanation Laura formed was that Carmilla had somehow fixed the reaping results. But that made no sense - why not volunteer if she was so determined to enter the games, especially since tampering with the Games would surely incur a death penalty. Not to mention all sides of Carmilla that Laura had seen had certainly implied that she hated every moment of their time as tributes so far. All this without even factoring in that she had apparently no family or friends as no one had come and bid her farewell after they were chosen. What possible motive could she have that would spur her to enter the Hunger Games?

Laura sighed and rolled over, settling further into the sheets. Something wacky was going on and she was damned if she wasn’t going to find out what.


	3. Chapter 3

The interrogation started the next morning at breakfast. 

They had woken up to another feast, which Laura was struggling with, her stomach still full from the night before. Even so, she stacked her plate high with toast, eggs, sausages and bacon, and chomped down on a hash brown as she studied Carmilla who sat opposite her. 

“So how come I’ve never seen you around before? I mean, we’re outside all the time at home, everyone knows everyone.” She attempted a breezy, politely interested tone, but was quelled by Carmilla’s derisive glance as she paused with her muesli halfway to her mouth and sighed at the interruption. With Amanda and Tiffany sitting right next to them, Carmilla could hardly maintain her silent act from yesterday, which was precisely the reason Laura had chosen this time to ask her questions. And she had a lot of questions. 

“Must be hard to see from all the way down there.” 

Ok, she was going to do this the hard way. Laura could work with that.

“I’m like 1 inch shorter than you.”

“It’s a big inch though,” Carmilla smirked, plastering on a fake smile under the watchful gaze of Amanda. 

Realising Carmilla had evaded her question and drawn her off-topic, she steeled herself for a different attack. She needed to be more specific - vague questions were too easy for Carmilla to worm her way out of. 

“Do you have a job?” Laura tried. “Well, did you, I mean.”

“Nope.”

“How old are you?”

“Older than you.”

“She’s 18,” Amanda jumped in helpfully. “It’s been a long time since District 7 has had two older tributes. Exciting!”

So Carmilla was maximum age. The age anyone was most likely to be chosen, as your name was added to the reaping bowl once more each consecutive year after 12. Also the year a tribute would be most likely to volunteer because, as Amanda was right in saying, being older was undoubtedly an advantage. No one under 14 had ever won the Games before, they were simply too small.

“So if you’re 18 how come I’ve never seen you in school?” Laura pressed. “I even took a few advanced classes this year and you weren’t in them.”

Carmilla sneered. “Right child prodigy we’ve got on our hands. Bet that’ll help you in the arena.”

“Wha - that’s not what I meant.”

Carmilla wasn’t even listening, absentmindedly fiddling with a thin gold chain that hung around her neck and disappeared under her collar as she finished her breakfast. 

“Do you even go to school?” Laura tried once more, exasperation bleeding through her casual tone. 

There was a pause. Behind Carmilla’s disinterested gaze, Laura could tell her brain was working as she tried to avoid the yes or no question. Finally she shook her head. And then nodded. And then shrugged.

“Not to the public school.” 

“Then where?”

Carmilla sighed. “I have private tutoring.”

What on earth? Laura had never in her whole life met someone who had private tutoring. District 7 was considered to have the best education in the country; they produced paper for heaven’s sake, they weren’t exactly short on textbooks. And who was paying for something like that? The same family that didn’t even turn up to say goodbye to their daughter? It seemed unlikely. 

“Why-” she began, but was cut off as Carmilla pushed back her chair, announced that she was full and was out of the door before the question had even died in her throat. 

***

Laura barely had time to freshen up after breakfast before Amanda was back at her door, calling her to come quickly. She followed Amanda to the window of the dining room where Carmilla was already standing, her hands pressed lightly against the window as she stared out. When she saw what she was looking at Laura gasped and ran to the window as well, gazing out in awe. 

They had reached the Capitol. It took a second for Laura to realise this, as her brain struggled to form the blur of vivid colours into shapes. The scene outside the train window was saturated with intense colour and excitement - Laura’s eyes flitted to and from each new and interesting thing. The street was bursting with ridiculously extravagant figures - women with eyelashes so long they resembled a fan caught Laura’s attention first, but it was quickly transferred to a man holding three poodles with unnatural coats of blue, pink and green. 

The very street they stood on, the storefronts, the fencing, even the artificial greenery were unnaturally vibrant with colour. Laura had never seen such an abundance of colour in one place, and in such intense quality. She pressed her hand against the window, hardly able to believe the scene outside was real. Her callused fingers, nails still grimy from forest dirt, against the backdrop of the surreal portrait outside only made it that much harder to comprehend.

The train began to slow as they approached the station and the people of the Capitol crowded around excitedly, trying to catch a glimpse of Laura and Carmilla. Her stomach churned as she saw how excited they looked. All for the slaughter of children.

“C’mon girls.” Amanda beckoned them away from the window and Laura turned, catching sight of Carmilla still pressed to the glass, her eyes frantically scanning face after face in the crowd, with an expression Laura hadn’t yet seen on her face. She was scared.

***

When Laura was about 14 years old in High School, a few of the older girls decided they were going to start shaving their legs. How they collectively came to this decision Laura never knew, but in a matter of days the trend spread through the school like wildfire and anyone able to get their hands on a razor was doing it. It all died down in a few months, not least because none of the girls could continue to shell out cash for the blades.

Apparently the whole “hairless” thing was still going strong in the Capitol. There were no crude blades though, instead Laura lay on a table in the Remake Centre while a group of people she’d been told were her ‘prep team’ worked on uprooting every hair on her body that wasn’t growing from her head, using strips of wax. 

Her stylist; a man who had introduced himself as “Orazio - I’m here to make you look beautiful, darling” sat in the corner, observing, as his team scrubbed Laura down, washing every speck of dirt off of her, from behind her ears to between her toes, until her skin felt raw but as pristine as she had ever seen it.

The whole process took hours but Orazio was eventually satisfied and had Laura stand in front of him as he pulled out a small gadget to scan her. It beeped once and emitted a red light and Laura’s measurements appeared in his hand. 

“Very nice, I can work with this,” He murmured, poking and prodding her as he stroked his chin. “Something about you gives off an aura of...innocence. I think we can use that in your interview. And your hair! So beautiful.” He stepped back. “As for tonight, I have your outfit already ready. I’ll be back in a flash, stay right here.”

“I’m hardly going to go running around stark naked.” Laura muttered to herself as he hurried off. 

Orazio’s first job was to prepare the girls for the opening ceremony that night, where the people of the Capitol would be properly introduced to this year’s batch of tributes for the first time. 

It was customary for the tributes to dress in something that reflected their district’s defining industry for the parade. Last year the District 7 pair dressed in all white, presumably inspired by the district’s role in paper exporting. 

District 7 was hardly a glamorous district, giving the stylists not much work to work with. No matter what they did, their tributes were never a stand out. 

This year was no different. For all the prep team’s efforts in making her spick and span earlier, Laura was handed an outfit for the parade that night that covered her from shoulders to toes, spare only a sliver of her stomach. 

“Perfect,” Orazio exclaimed when she was dressed. “I just love it! You’ll look even better with your partner tribute next to you. I’ll go fetch her now.” 

He bustled off, leaving Laura to examine herself in the mirror. She was dressed as a tree feller. Long trousers, dirty enough to make it seem like she had just returned from a stroll in the forest, but nowhere near the state of her pants lying in her dresser back home, boots and a long-sleeved plaid shirt tied in a knot at the waist. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and the whole look was topped off with a fake axe that she rested on her shoulder. With a little stretch of the imagination Laura could almost pretend she was getting ready to go work in the fields like at home. 

Apart from of course the full length mirrors, the pristine room she was standing in, the makeup covering her face and the way her shirt was pulled up to show her abs. 

Laura expected Carmilla to be dressed identically to her. What did not expect was for her to waddle out of the elevator following Orazio and Amanda, her face thunderous and looking as though she wanted the games to begin early.

Carmilla had been stuffed into a tube that was the colour and texture of bark. Holes were carved out for her arms which were covered in material sleeves of the same design. Her leggings matched too and on her head she wore a headband from which a large green bush protruded in every direction. 

She was a tree. 

If it wasn’t for the fact that Laura was terrified, angry and about to be paraded around on live television in front of the whole country, she would have laughed all the way down to the ground floor where the ceremony would begin. As it was, she still struggled to keep it together when she was whacked by a wayward branch every time Carmilla shifted in her uncomfortable outfit. 

“Why did I have to be the tree?” She grumbled, as they stepped onto their chariot. All around them pairs of tributes were doing the same, their stylists and escorts giving them final instructions.

Laura scanned the tributes gathered in the large room, comparing them to the footage of the reaping. Though they were far away at the front of the line, she easily picked out the kids from Districts 1 and 2, their large frames instantly recognisable amongst the mob of average sized kids. The taller out of the two girls from District 1 turned around unexpectedly and there was an uneasy second as she locked eyes with Laura. Feeling like she should look away, but unable to tear her eyes away from the girl’s intense stare, she watched as the other girl shot her a grin that could have been menacing, teasing or knowing - it was unclear from this distance. District One’s tribute spun around again and Laura noted her long, red hair and strong, tall frame. The rest of the tributes from District One and Two were milling together, already forming a sort of pack that Laura knew they would use to dominate in the arena. Behind them, the tributes from District 3 were huddled together, perhaps trying to avoid the Career Districts they were sandwiched between. The two of them, one with curly red hair and the other with short ginger hair, were deep in discussion. Laura could tell just from watching that they were inherently familiar with each other - possibly they could have been friends before they were selected.

“Laura works in the forest at home, it only makes sense,” Orazio reasoned. “Besides, you’re taller. I wanted a tree, not a bonsai.”

“It’s one inch!” Laura cut in indignantly.

“Now remember, smiles on!”

Laura did her best to force the corners of her mouth upwards, but it ended up looking more like a grimace. Carmilla made absolutely no effort, only continuing to glower at the man.

“I swear, when I make it out of here alive, I’m going to kill you.”

The horses leading their chariot started moving and they were whisked away. For one uneasy second, Laura wobbled as she adjusted to the rocking of the chariot, but by the time the chariots had rumbled, one by one, onto the road flanked on both sides by roaring crowds she had steadied herself and was able to devote all attention to the very present audience. 

The masses of people on either side created a deafening sandwich of sound that Laura was trapped between; she heard her name called and turned around in bewilderment, then realised many people in the crowd were screaming the names of the tributes as they passed. Unsure of how to respond, she turned to see how Carmilla was handling the situation and found her impassive, but watching the audience intently. Deciding that taking tips from Carmilla would only make her appear as morose as Carmilla did, Laura turned a hesitant smile towards the crowd and found it was met with renewed cheering. 

It was so important to gain favour with the crowd; one of them could be rich and offer her sponsorship. 

Gaining confidence, she lifted her free arm and waved first to one side and then to the other. She felt an infectiousness excitement trickle through her, despite the fact she was parading through a crowd of people eagerly awaiting her death. In the heat of the moment, with the crowd roaring and music blaring, it was hard to remember.

Laura found herself bestowing waves and smiles to the crown with genuine giddiness; she caught sight of herself in the large screens and saw she looked positively radiant. By the time the chariots had moved to form a large semi-circle facing the stage which the President would soon grace, she felt breathless and filled with adrenaline, but one look confirmed that Carmilla was immune to the festive atmosphere - her brooding glare was fixed on the stage. Laura followed her gaze and saw President Vordenberg ascend to the platform and stretch out his arms to embrace the crowd. 

“Greetings Ladies and Gentlemen of Panem! And to the tributes for the 33rd annual Hunger Games; welcome!” 

President Vordenberg had taken over as president from a stony faced lady with a harsh voice when Laura was quite young, and she had always much preferred him over the old president. He was quite old, had white wispy hair and even carried a walking stick, and yet exuded a remarkable amount of energy. He seemed to feed off the energy and became louder and more animated the more the crowd responded enthusiastically to him. He launched into the usual official welcome speech, though it was difficult to understand half of it through his strong Capitol accent. 

Afterwards, the anthem played again and the chariots circled once more around the center stage, before trundling into the training centre. Huge doors swung shut behind them. 

***

All through dinner Amanda lauded praise on Laura’s behaviour during the parade.  
“Just wonderful you were! The cameras loved you.” Amanda took a bite of her meatballs and pointed her fork in Carmilla’s direction. “You would do well to take a leaf out of Laura’s book, young lady. That constant frown has got to go.”

The scowl currently on Carmilla’s face deepened. 

They were staying in a huge tower inside the training centre, in which each district’s tributes and their teams had their own floor. That floor would be their home until the games.

“I don’t think so,” Tiffany piped up. “Potential sponsors pick who to support based on who they think is most likely to win, not only who their favourites are. If she comes across as threatening, she’ll be seen as a real contender.” She glanced across at Carmilla thoughtfully. “You’ll need a solid training score to back it up, though.”

“I can manage that.” Carmilla smirked. How was she she confident?

“Do you have any tips for tomorrow?” Laura asked Tiffany.

Their first day of training was tomorrow morning. A knot of anxiety had settled behind Laura’s ribcage and seemed to growing as time went on.

“Well, first of all you need to decide what kind of tactic you’re thinking of having,” Tiffany said. “For example, an offensive or a defensive kind of position. Now, if you want to - ”

“I don’t want to kill anyone.” The words rolled out of Laura’s mouth, surprising everyone at the table, including herself. Tiffany’s fork froze in the act of stirring her pasta. She and Amanda stared at her with identical expressions of bemusement.

Carmilla only snorted. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you’ve been boring me to death since yesterday.”

“What is your problem?” Laura spat, her embarrassment dissolving into a renewed bout of anger at Carmilla.

“What’s yours?” Carmilla shot back. “Because clearly you have a death wish. This is the Hunger Games cutie, you either kill or be killed, that’s it.” 

Honestly, the thought of killing someone else hadn’t occupied Laura’s thoughts until now; since her reaping she had been consumed with thoughts of staying alive. But now as Tiffany had began talking tactics she had realised, of course; Tiffany, Amanda, they would all expect her to be on board with all this. To kill people. To murder innocent children simply because her corrupt country and an annoying 18 year old with an overgrown ego told her she had to.

She would sooner die herself than have someone die at her hands.

Laura met Carmilla’s eyes and tried to control her simmering anger. Above all else, she was frustrated. Frustrated that she was being put in a situation where the only two choices were to abandon her moral code, or die. 

“I don’t have a deathwish, that’s the point. As far as I know, no one here does. The Capitol can ruin my life and kill me, but I won’t let them bully me into doing the same to someone else.” Carmilla watched her steadily as she barreled on. “I won’t let the arena change me. No one deserves to die unwillingly in a spectacle put on to entertain a bunch of rich people! Not the kids who volunteered, not anyone. Not even you.”

She stood up from the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed because we have a full day of training tomorrow and some of us actually need TO LEARN HOW TO NOT DIE.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Listen up, everyone. You might think you know what you’re doing, but remember only one of you is making it out of the arena. If you want to be that one person, you better start training.” The Head Trainer followed up these words with a piercing glare around the group. “And if you think you can throw a spear and that’ll be enough to get you the top spot, think again. Just as many of you will die from natural causes than from a knife across the throat.” 

Laura shifted on the spot, feeling unsettled as she stood for the first time in the immediate proximity of the other tributes. The careers she had observed from afar at the ceremony looked twice as menacing when she was close enough to see the definition in their biceps, the strength in their stance, and the way they towered over her. 

She had woken that morning feeling sick to the stomach and unable to work out why, until she remembered that they were starting the training period that day. The feeling sat like a stone in her stomach, through breakfast as everyone ate in uneasy silence, all the way down to the training rooms where they gathered with the other tributes, and was still hanging over her now as the Head Trainer paced agitatedly in front of them. 

The huge room they were in had an abundance of stations where they could practice and learn new skills and with a sharp clap of the Head Trainer’s hands they were dismissed to begin their training. The careers headed off with confident purpose, lifting their weapons with practised hands. Laura watched the red-headed girl from District One impale a human figure with a spear from the other side of the room and suddenly had an urge to vomit. Turning, she found Carmilla standing behind her, eyes trained on the careers also. The other tributes were starting to disperse. Hesitant movements made their inexperience obvious. Laura winced, knowing the minute she picked up a weapon she would be revealed to be as obviously inept as they were. 

On one side of the room she spotted the survival section, currently looking as deserted of tributes as it was of weapons. She skulked her way over in the direction of the snares station, trying to avoid everyone else. Carmilla trailed after her purposefully. Laura looked at her out of the corner of her eye as she sat down next to her. 

“Are we seriously going to tie knots for the rest of the day?” Carmilla asked scathingly.

Laura looked at her, bemused. “You don’t have to sit with me. Go throw some knives or something. Stab some dummies. I don’t care.”

Carmilla began to grumble under her breath, words and profanity slipping out of her mouth in a steady torrent. Laura decided to ignore her, turning back to the diagram showing how to construct a complicated knot. Carmilla still sat with her arms crossed, elbows sticking out, her knotted silhouette in her peripheral vision. 

After a while, her grumbling figure had become an annoying itch she couldn’t ignore. Turning around, ready to snap, she noticed her intense glare, eyes focused on something over Laura’s shoulder.

“They’re watching you,” she hissed. “Look.”

“Who?” Laura asked, swiveling. The careers stood, huddled, talking. Their gazes were focused on Laura. Her stomach plummeted. “What do they want?”

“Probably wondering why you’ve been tying your hands together for the past half an hour.”

“I’m learning how to trap food!” Laura protested.

“All you’re doing is making yourself an easy target. If the careers think you’re weak, they’ll come after you first in the arena.” Carmilla dropped the rope she had been pointlessly twirling around her finger and stood up. “You should throw an axe. I heard you telling Tiffany this morning that you can. Otherwise those brutes are going to eat you for lunch.”

Laura craned her neck up to meet Carmilla’s challenging glare. The extra inch was really helping to make her look intimidating from this angle. “But I...everyone’s watching and - I don’t know - I’m not sure if I -”

Carmilla rolled her eyes at Laura’s spluttering. “Suit yourself, but that’s where I’m going.”

Carmilla turned on her heel and strode towards the other side of the room, heading towards a stand with several axes hanging from it. 

Laura agonised for a second over what to do. She’d never thrown an axe in a situation like this before, only back home where she and her Dad would have competitions, trying to hit a tree as many consecutive times as they could. That was fun, a game. This was...pressure. Immense pressure; either impress, or be targeted. 

Suspicion of Carmilla was tingling under her skin. She hadn’t said a nice word to her since they’d met, and now she was suddenly acting as her self-appointed advisor. 

Still, it looked like right now she was going to have to choose between her grumpy partner, who talked a big game but was yet to prove she could hurt a fly, and four very large careers who were seconds away from penciling Laura in as their first kill. No contest. 

She dropped her rope and scrambled after Carmilla, trying her best to look as though she wasn’t running away in fear from the careers. A difficult feat, considering she was doing exactly that. 

Carmilla stood at the axe throwing station, tossing a shiny axe from hand to hand. She smirked at Laura as she approached and held the axe in her direction, offering it to her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Carmilla drawled. “Ladies first?”

Laura eyed the targets that they would be throwing at warily - human shaped cutouts, with a target right in the centre of the chest. “No thanks.” She shook her head quickly.

“Whatever.” Carmilla shrugged and flipped the axe in her hand in a circle, before approaching a training marshall and having him line her up in front of a target. 

Laura watched as Carmilla stood straight-backed, her movements sure. She lifted the blade over her shoulder and Laura’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She had never noticed how muscly Carmilla was under the swaths of fabric she preferred to wear. Carmilla might be lean, but her exposed skin was stretched tightly over underlying muscle. Her biceps tensed with the weight of the axe, taut and defined - then the axe was spinning through the air, a silver blur. Laura’s eyes swiveled, watching the heavy blade swing end over end until it was embedded in the target, handle quivering slightly. 

An inch from the target’s head. 

Carmilla nodded in satisfaction, and stood to the side, looking at Laura expectantly.

Laura cocked her head to the side, looking at the target but seeing a wide oak tree back home and her father’s challenging grin. Hesitantly, she picked up an axe. The surface was smooth and slippery, unlike the rough finish of her sub par axe back home. But the weight of it was familiar in her hand - the shape of the handle in her palm, the muscles in her forearm tensing with the pull of the blade. She looked up and regarded the target for the second time. It was really just a human silhouette. No substance.

But it could be real. In the arena she would be pursued by humans, not crudely drawn human shapes with targets on them. She might stand in this position holding an axe and face a scared teenager just like her. How could she ever throw it?

“I’m not getting any younger over here, Hollis,” Carmilla remarked snarkily. 

Every muscle tensed with annoyance. Turning her glare to Carmilla, she locked eyes with her and threw the axe at the target with all her strength, never breaking eye contact. She heard the shudder as it hit the target board. 

Carmilla raised her eyebrows at the result. Laura sneaked a glance at it as well, hoping her dramatic display hadn’t been for nothing. 

To her relief, but not surprise, the blade had sunk into the wood in the centre of the target. Right through the heart. 

A thrill of exultation sang through her. Picking up another axe, she threw it at the adjacent target, relishing in the familiar action. The axe hit the target centre with a satisfying thump. Finally, something in the strange world that didn’t feel alien. She knew how to throw axes. She was good at this. 

Finding her rhythm, she buried several more axe blades in the centre of the targets, until she reached for another and the training marshall only shrugged, the rack empty. Laura looked around, breathing hard. Carmilla had her hands on her hips and a single eyebrow raised, in a display of indifference, but Laura saw admiration in the twist of her mouth and felt a swell of pride. The careers, in their huddle, were looking over at her as well, not with admiration, but with cautious acknowledgment of her skills. Their expressions were a variety of emotions - anger, disbelief, calculation. Laura turned away, dismissing them all, happy to just be noticed for her skills.

Amanda certainly did not share Laura’s feelings in that regard.

“Is this some sort of game to you?!” She asked at dinner that night with startling ferocity, after Carmilla had relayed the news of Laura’s spontaneous demonstration. Her words had been diluted with the pleasure of ratting Laura out, but there was a thread of respect nonetheless. “Do you have any regard for strategy? For - for - a game plan? You do realise that anyone can waltz into the arena waving an axe around, but not everyone can waltz back out? Alive?”

She wondered if it would be indelicate to interrupt Amanda’s tirade to ask Tifanny to pass the bread rolls. 

“Laura, that was a questionable move,” Tiffany said quietly. “You hadn’t discussed with me if you wanted to showcase your abilities before the Games. Now all the tributes will know your strength, and can work out how to combat it. I would have thought that would be something you would put considerate thought into before you made up your mind.”

“Sorry,” Laura muttered finally, breaking her silence. “But I thought the training was just to train. The careers might know I can throw an axe now, but at least they know I can do something. I didn’t want them to mark me down as their first kill.”

She snuck a glance at Carmilla under cover of Amanda and Tiffany’s quiet conferral. After all, she was the one who had got her into this mess by indirectly persuading her to showcase her skills to the careers. Those brutes are going to eat you for lunch. Well, now Laura was being eaten for dinner by Amanda, along with a tasteful salad.

Carmilla smirked unabashedly back at her. Laura looked back down at her meal while Amanda maintained her impressively long and passionate rant. When the plates had been cleared to make way for dessert, Tiffany placed her glass on the table with a resounding finality.

“It’s time to talk tactics.” She looked at both of the girls in turn. “My advice is that if you want a shot at winning, you need to start thinking about allies.” 

Laura’s mind immediately ran through a reel of every tribute face she had stuck in her memory. The mean faces of the careers through to the meek faces of the tributes from higher districts. The girl from District 8 who had dissolved into tears at the reaping stuck out, as did the cool and calculating face of the District 4 boy, who had made her skin prickle when she watched him stand on stage and regard the crowd with an appraising eye. The red-haired girl from District 1 she had seen several times since the reaping and was beginning to wonder nervously if the other girl had made note of her similarly and would be marking her as her first victim when she got into the arena, especially after Laura’s unprecedented display today. 

None of the tributes she had so far observed would be people Laura would even consider approaching, let alone proposing alliances with. Ever since the reaping she had been hoping for a comforting presence with her, but now the thought of having someone along side her caused a trickle of apprehension to run down her spine. How could she ever trust a fellow tribute?

Carmilla shook her head contemptuously. “Not for me. I’m going alone.”

Tiffany frowned. “The careers will more than likely team up. If you could find someone to work with, even just initially, I would recommend it.”

Carmilla scoffed. “Do I strike you as the type of person who plays well with others?”

“You can go it alone if that’s what you really want. It’s not what I would recommend. But why would you listen to a previous winner of the Hunger Games anyway? What possible knowledge based on personal experience could I have that could ever surpass your deep and intuitive understanding of the games?”

Carmilla’s cheeks flamed and her face twisted into a scowl as her fingers curled on the tabletops. Laura shrunk back almost instinctively. It was one of the rare times Carmilla had shown a sliver of uncontrolled emotion.

A few beats, strung taut with tension passed, during which Laura and Amanda hovered in a sort of suspended state, trying not to spark a reaction from either Tiffany or Carmilla.

Finally Tiffany spoke. Aware of Carmilla’s fragile state, perhaps, she had switched to a gentler tone. “I understand the need to feel in control of what you’re doing, Carmilla, and I want you to go with your gut. All I’m trying to do is advise you. It’s my job. And my advice is to at least consider teaming up with someone.”

Some of the tension dissolved - or at least, it felt that way to Laura. Keeping on eye on Carmilla’s reddened face, she ventured, “So… if I was considering teaming up with someone… I mean - ” she faltered as everyone’s gazes spun to focus on her. Carmilla in particular was sending her a dark look, which Laura had no idea of what she had done to deserve. 

Laura opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, unsuccessfully trying to vocalise her fear of an alliance - she felt distinctly uncomfortable about the fact that the alliances were based on the mutual understanding that one party would readily turn around and stab the other in the back if need came to be. 

“Are you worried about how to propose an alliance, Laura?” Tiffany questioned. “Mentors can take care of that kind of stuff, you know. I could propose an alliance with another tribute’s mentor. Is there anyone you’re thinking of teaming up with?”

She watched Laura with interest. Carmilla continued to glower at Laura while Amanda observed the scene with an expectant gaze. 

“No.” Laura finally spoke. “No, I don’t have anyone in mind.”

***

Laura entered the training room the next morning feeling rested and full of purpose. Not that she’d ever admit that to Amanda - their escort, to Laura’s dismay, had removed the fancy treats, the delicious delicacies and indulgent desserts that Laura had inadvertently grown accustomed to having after dinner, because she insisted they would make themselves sick before the games. Like the ever-present knot of anxiety in her stomach wasn’t doing that anyway. Regardless, she was glad to have a goal she could accomplish; find someone and convince them to team up with her. 

Carmilla had already busied herself with taking on the gauntlet activity - an obstacle course that involved jumping from beam to beam all the while dodging padded clubs swung at you by the training marshalls. It was as if the trainers were attacking in slow motion; their moves were no match for the way Carmilla deftly skipped from beam to beam, barely breaking a sweat. 

The gamemakers talked among themselves from their viewing platform above the tributes, a few even pointing in Carmilla’s direction as she blitzed the course. In fact, she was drawing the attention of lots of people in the big hall. If she noticed, which was probable judging by her small smirk, she didn’t care, or rather was relishing in the attention. 

Laura turned her back. There was no way she was attempting the gauntlet; she possessed about as much balance as her rickety old desk at home - there was a small stack of books under one leg to keep it from falling. 

All around her the other tributes threw themselves into their activities with varying levels of violence, all trying their best to make a good impression on the gamemakers. The boy from District 4 hurled huge weights as though they were nothing, and the red-haired girl from District 1 backed past her as she dueled with a training marshall, brandishing a sword almost taller than Laura. 

A lonely figure sat at a station where you could learn to identify edible and poisonous plants, and Laura decided to make her way over to him. His hunched shape was small and wiry, with short dark hair that was combed to one side. At the moment his fingers were tapping rapidly at a touch screen in front of him, every so often twitching compulsively to scratch his head, or his arm.

Laura lowered herself to the ground next to him and smiled.

“Hi! I’m Laura.”

The boy’s eyes darted up to her face for a second before dropping down to the screen as he spoke. 

“I know. Laura Hollis, District 7. I’m JP Armitage. District 5. Power,” he muttered in a halting stream of words. The words sounded strange, the way he rolled them around his mouth before dropping them in uneven piles.

On the screen in front of him, images of different plants flashed up and they were to be swiped either left; poisonous, or right; edible. JP’s fingers worked almost unstoppingly; the images had scarcely appeared before they were swiped left or right. 

Not wanting to interrupt him again, Laura sat and watched quietly, as the number in the bottom corner of the screen crept up and up. 81, 82, 83… When it hit 100 the screen went blank and JP sat back, flexing his fingers, the muscles in his shoulders that were tight with concentration suddenly relaxing.

“How come you know so much about plants?” 

JP sprang back into a tight coil of tension, startled at Laura’s question, as though he had already forgotten she was there. 

“I mean, if you’re from District 5 then I didn’t think you would know about this stuff,” she continued.

“Oh, I don’t.” His eyes were skittish, sliding around the room like an overexcited dog on a slippery floor. “I just learnt today.”

“Today? Wow. That’s, well, slightly terrifying.”

“Yes.” He nodded quickly, his fingers tapping spasmodically on the ground. “I have an eidetic memory.” He paused for a second. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about? Because I must say this conversation is making me very uncomfortable.”

His blatant honesty should have been surprising but was somehow not unexpected coming from the small boy in front of her. He could barely control his fingers so it only followed that he couldn’t seem to keep a filter on his words. In fact, she doubted his brain was concerned with such trivial things as social niceties when it was busy memorising the entire botanical database. 

It occurred to Laura that her presence might not appear as innocent as intended. In fact, if someone was to approach her at a station and corner her into a conversation she would be running as fast as she could in the other direction. JP looked like he was about to do that very thing. 

“So… JP. Have you got any ideas about whether you’re going to team up with someone in the arena?” She tried for a friendly tone. He hunched over into himself, mildly resembling a hermit crab.

“Why?” The hermit crab asked suspiciously. 

She opened her mouth, several answers formulating at once. “I wanted to know if you wanted to team up with someone. I want to team up with someone, too.” Her almost proposal wavered on unsteady legs between them. 

He glanced from her to the screen in front of him several times in quick succession.“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” he said finally, and pushed himself to his feet, walking away from her as fast as his frail legs could take him.

Great. That went terribly. 

Sullenly, she started the plant test for herself, getting irrationally angry when she didn’t know any of the answers. She started flipping left and right randomly, with the fluent pace of JP, but with a lot more flashing red dialogue boxes informing her she was incorrect.

“Wow. Plant knowledge isn’t really your thing, huh?”

Laura spun around. The two redheads from District 3 stood behind her. The shorter-haired one was the one who had spoken, Laura assumed, judging by the way she was looking over her shoulder at the screen with an amused gaze. The other girl, curly-haired and disapproving, stood a couple of steps behind, regarding Laura warily. 

The short-haired girl stuck out her hand. Laura looked at it in surprise. She had assumed they were only here to laugh at her lack of talent in the botanical field, but the girl was grinning at her, and not in a superior way, either.

“I’m LaFontaine,” she said, shaking Laura’s hand firmly. “Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura refers to Laf as 'she' because she doesn't yet know their preferred pronouns.


	5. Chapter 5

“You were swiping at the screen so hard there I thought you were going to send it flying!” LaFontaine plopped down next to Laura, and her friend settled next to her uncertainly. 

“Um yeah, I’ve never really learnt about this stuff before.” Laura tried to justify herself quickly.

“Relax, I’m not here to judge; that’s what the gamemakers are for!” LaFontaine grinned teasingly at her again. “Kidding.”

The defensive persona she had hastily put up at their arrival dropped away. It was impossible not to see genuine friendliness in the way LaFontaine so comfortably sat down next to Laura. She wondered what district they were from and before she knew it the words were dropping out of her mouth.

“District 3,” LaFontaine answered cheerily. “Electronics. You’re District 7, right?”

Laura felt strangely mixed between flattered and disturbed at the fact that this stranger knew her District. Was she this familiar to the other tributes?

“This is Perry. She’s from District 3, also.” LaFontaine gestured to the other girl behind her, shuffling around to include her. The other girl looked at Laura as if analysing her. Her big eyes in her delicate face were watchful and wary, half-covered by a fringe of red ringlets. Unexpectedly, she smiled somewhat warmly at Laura. 

“Your District partner is that shady looking girl, right?” LaFontaine continued. “Man, that girl gives me the creeps. What’s her deal?”

“I’m afraid I don’t give out my secrets to everyone.” Carmilla’s dulcet tones came from behind them. “But I’ll take _shady_ as a compliment.”

The three of them looked up at Carmilla with varying expressions of guilt.

“You.” Carmilla directed this at Laura. “What are you doing over here? You don’t know anything about _plants_.”

“I’m _learning_ ,” Laura said, very indignant for someone who did not know anything about plants and was in fact not doing anything to learn. But she felt resentful about the fact that Carmilla was acting as if it was Laura’s idea to train separately when Carmilla had promptly ditched her this morning and played leapfrog on the Gauntlet for three hours.

“And I’m talking to these two,” Laura added, banking on the fact that Carmilla wouldn’t say anything rude about them in their immediate presence. However, the look on her face made it clear that Carmilla didn’t need words to convey her disapproval. A distinctly disgusted sneer twisted Carmilla’s face gruesomely and Laura felt a rush of indignation on Perry and LaFontaine’s behalf.

“Of course, how silly of me to forget the real reason we’re here, to make friends! All these deadly weapons around are just decoration! They just perfectly set the scene!” Carmilla said in overexaggerated, falsely excited tones. Laura was reminded of Amanda and wondered if Carmilla was intentionally resembling her. 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind her, she’s always like this,” she said, trying to put a terrified-looking Perry at ease. 

LaFontaine laughed. “All bark and no bite, hey?”

“Try me,” Carmilla retorted, eyes flashing dangerously, and LaF’s mouth snapped shut. She dropped to the floor on Laura’s other side and pointed at the screen. “That’s strychnine and it’s deadly. Honestly, cupcake, you’ve been stuck on this level for minutes now.”

“I. Was. Talking.” 

Sure enough, a green tick popped up when she swiped the picture to the left.

“Oh, I know this one!” LaFontaine jumped in, when a small orange mushroom appeared next. 

It turned out that LaFontaine knew quite a lot about plants; apparently they were right into all things science, and spent a lot of their spare time researching. Their vast knowledge was second only to Carmilla’s, who mostly stayed quiet but would huff and mutter the correct answer to Laura anytime they were stuck. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon trying out various survival stations, mainly because Perry squeaked with fright the one time Laura dared suggest they try the archery station. Carmilla trailed after them the whole time, bringing with her a near-constant muttering of snide comments and grumbling. 

By the time they were sent back to their district floor that night, Laura was almost in a good mood, or the best she’d felt since the reaping anyway. With only a grumpy district partner for company, she had felt terribly untethered ever since Amanda had delivered her death sentence at the reaping. For the first time, she had a comforting presence in the shape of LaFontaine and Perry. Even Carmilla was becoming bearable, despite the constant torrent of negative comments that seemed to accompany her. Somehow they had lost their sting, perhaps as Laura realised that they were more part of her personality rather than a real desire to hurt people. 

Even though it was only a few days ago that she’d been chosen, it felt like weeks. The raw pain of missing her dad had become a dull ache. While it no longer stung her painfully every time she thought it about it, it was a constant throbbing presence, reminding her of what she had lost and what she was yet to lose. She wondered what he would be doing right now. Actually she was almost certain he’d be parked in front of their TV, watching desperately for any update on her, probably having forgotten to eat any dinner. 

If only she could ask for his advice on what to do. She was almost set on asking LaFontaine and Perry to team up with her; they seemed genuinely friendly and unlikely to turn on her in the arena. Still, she wanted to sleep on her decision and as such didn’t bring them up with Amanda and Tiffany, instead recounting the different stations she’d tried that day - what she’d found difficult - the edible plants quiz, for one - and what she wasn’t too bad at - fire starting, shelter building. While her muscles were tense with exhaustion, there was a steadily growing confidence under her skin. She had always had strength, but for the first time she was really testing her boundaries. 

After dinner and yet another overly healthy dessert, Laura lay flopped down on the bed in her room. It wasn’t early enough to sleep yet, but whenever left alone with her thoughts like this they always drifted back to her father, which was both depressing and unproductive. 

She scanned her surroundings, eyes sliding over shiny chrome surfaces, clear glass panes, smooth leather coverings. It was practically the epitome of comfort, everything in it was about a million times more expensive than anything she owned back home, yet it held nothing that could distract her from her moping. She felt like her brooding thoughts were thickening the air, choking her, leaving her trapped and confined. 

Then again, Amanda had never explicitly said she had to stay in her room the whole night. She needed to get out, and there was no harm in a little exploring. Probably. 

She pulled herself up from her bed and pushed her door open, peering down the corridor. Her room opened out onto a landing, overlooking the dining-room and adjoining living room. There was a sweeping white staircase in front of her leading down to the dining room. Further along the landing, there was an identical staircase, which she presumed stood across from Carmilla’s room. 

Amanda and Tiffany’s rooms were on the main floor, situated under the staircases, so there should be no problem of them catching her snooping around. 

She placed a hand on the railing of the landing, where one could look out over the main floor, which currently looked deserted, and began walking down the hall.

Halfway along the hallway she found big double doors. To her surprise, they were unlocked; she pushed them open, revealing a huge room. The room was encased in floor to ceiling windows and protruded out the walls of the tower so that the brightly lit and bustling city could be seen from all three windows. She had the curious feeling of being suspended in a glass bubble among the stars. A jet black grand piano stood in the centre of the room, tiny reflected lights dancing on its gleaming surface.

She walked to the center of the room over polished floorboards, letting her fingers trail along the smooth lid of the piano and its crisp white keys, and then turned her attention to the view. City lights stretched for miles, dancing excitedly along the many roads of the city and running up the sides of skyscrapers, where they joined the sea of stars. A muted humming floated up to her, the sounds of the Capitol residents partying, exultant in the excitement for the beginning of the Games in just four days time.

It was breathtaking. The kind of beautiful that should be shared. 

Before she knew where her rebellious feet were taking her she was out of the room and continuing along the hallway, until she found herself standing outside Carmilla’s door; easily identifiable by the blood seeping out under the crack of the door and the general stink of...bad person-ness. 

She pondered the bare white door, wondering what Carmilla was doing behind it. How exactly did narcissistic sociopaths spend their time anyway?

Hoping she wasn’t planning her first murder or something equally distasteful, Laura knocked on the door lightly, more out of the craving to share this with another human being than to spend time with Carmilla in particular. But it was true that over the couple of days they had spent together, she had become more of a familiar presence than Laura could ever have imagined. Maybe she was here for other reasons after all. 

No sound was coming from within the room - hopefully Carmilla wasn’t already sleeping. 

She knocked quietly. 

“Come in.” The voice that filtered through the cracks between the door frame sounded bored. Unsurprising, since bored seemed to be Carmilla’s default state.

Tentatively, Laura pushed the door open, and found Carmilla doing absolutely nothing diabolical. Instead she was lounging on her bed in a brilliantly red bathrobe, looking decidedly unthreatening as she paged through a book.

“Um, it’s me,” Laura announced hesitantly. 

Carmilla looked up from her book, indifferent expression disappearing under one of surprise. Unexpectedly, she smiled, tossing her reading to the side. “For what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?”

Laura stood dumbly for a second, already second-guessing herself. Maybe Carmilla would have no interest in seeing the room. After all, she could see the city well enough from out her bedroom windrow. Besides, it wasn’t like they were close friends. 

But could they be? Already she was seeing Carmilla as less of an annoying presence and more as a source of comfort, or familiarity. Was it her imagination, or was there potential for a connection? Carmilla had already been acting nicer towards her for the past few days. There was no harm in extending an olive branch. Unless of course Carmilla snapped the olive branch in half and used it to poke Laura’s eyes out. Hopefully she wouldn’t do that.

“Cat got your tongue?” Carmilla prodded her, and she realised she’d forgotten to answer.

“Oh! No, I’m good. I just came to say...I found something. And I thought you might want to see it.”

“You found something? How terribly vague and mysterious,” Carmilla taunted, but her mouth was forming a playful smile. “I’m in.”

She slid off the bed and rummaged under it until she produced her usual pair of heavy boots. 

“We’re not going outside…” Laura said, as Carmilla pulled the shoes on with purpose. 

“No? And here I thought we were going to make our daring nighttime escape.”

Carmilla pulled the laces tight anyway and joined Laura at the door; the boot’s usual bad-assery vibe somewhat marred by the way they poked out the bottom of her flowing red bathrobe.

“Maybe I just like looking down at you.” She winked as she brushed past her into the hall. 

Huh? Was that…? Ugh, she was so _infuriating!_

Laura was in the awkward position of not knowing whether she was being threatened or flirted with. And for God’s sake, who the hell looked that good in a freaking bathrobe?

“Wait!” She called out after Carmilla’s billowing robe as she strode away, boots making decisive footsteps on the wooden floor. “You don’t even know where we’re going!”

“Well then by all means, enlighten me.”

Laura led Carmilla down the hall to the double doors. Pushing them open, she was once again greeted by the astounding view. She felt suddenly and strangely self-conscious as she turned around to gauge Carmilla’s reaction.

Carmilla stood in the middle of the room, one hand resting on the flawlessly smooth black surface of the piano. Her eyes were large and glassy; Laura could see thousands of tiny stars reflected in them. They were depthless pools or infinite abysses. For once, she didn’t inhabit the room with her disdainful presence - rather the room consumed her. She looked strangely small compared to the beautiful monstrosity that was the piano, but no less regal.

“Have you been in here before?” Laura asked softly. 

“Never. I didn’t know there was anything else on this floor.” Carmilla stepped past her further into the room, her face turning from side to side, from starry sky to starry sky. She took a few careful steps away from the piano as she let her hand trace the top of the piano keys, lingering on the slender black keys, unknowingly mimicking Laura’s actions. She murmured something as she reached the far window and gazed out. 

“What?” Laura asked. Carmilla was a stark black silhouette against the tiny pinpricks of light dotting the dark curtain of the sky. She moved forward to join her and followed Carmilla’s finger with her line of sight. 

“That’s the president’s quarters,” Carmilla repeated. Her eyes were locked on a huge tower that ascended into the sky, soaring far above the mass of buildings. The surface glinted mysteriously with the lights of the city.

“How do you know that?” Laura asked curiously.

Carmilla didn’t answer for a second, mouth slightly ajar. 

“Books,” she said finally and shrugged vaguely. She was clinging to the gold chain around her neck, eyes vacant, lost deep in thought. Her gaze was as faraway as the distant lights on the horizon. They both stayed silent for a while, staring out at the city until Carmilla turned and faced her suddenly. “I know just what we need. Wait here.”

With that decisive statement, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, a purposefulness returned to her stance. 

***

“Hey.” The sound of Carmilla finally returning interrupted the sound of isolated, dissonant notes as Laura pressed piano keys at random. 

“Hey - woah.” Laura did a double-take as she spun around on the seat and found Carmilla leaning against the doorframe, clad in a corset and - were those leather pants? In one hand she held two mugs that were emitting thin trails of steam and she had what looked like half the kitchen - packets of cookies, marshmallows and chocolate - tucked under her other arm.

“You look - uh, different,” she stammered clumsily. 

Carmilla smirked and sauntered over as Laura sniffed the air. “Is that hot chocolate? Where did you even get that? And all that food? What’s this for?”

“Well.” Carmilla deposited her armful of treats onto the top of the piano and slid onto the stool next to Laura. “We’re in a beautiful city at night, we have music, and it occurred to me that it would be a shame to not hasten the opportunity to throw ourselves a party, don’t you agree? All that was missing was the food, which is clearly no longer a problem.”

At any other time Laura would have pointed out that the piano she had no idea how to work wasn't currently producing anything remotely close to enjoyable music, but she was sufficiently distracted by the way Carmilla was staring at her through her eyelashes.

"I see," she said blandly, the only words that made it through a hazy fog that had descended over her brain. Carmilla handed her a mug. 

“The waitresses are scared of me,” she explained as she rustled through the pile of treats. 

“I’m not surprised,” Laura muttered, and Carmilla grinned.

Suspiciously presented to her by a frenemy in leather or not, Laura couldn’t resist the delicious aroma from the hot chocolate in her hands, and raised it to her lips. 

“Wait!” Carmilla’s hand landed on her arm. She paused while Carmilla tore open a packet of marshmallows and offered her one.

“What-?”

“You put them in your drink,” Carmilla said earnestly. 

Laura watched skeptically as Carmilla proceeded to drop a few in Laura’s mug and then her own, and brought their glasses together with a clink. 

She regarded the rotund white puffs bobbing around in her cup and looking rather unappealing as Carmilla took a gulp from her own. She nudged Laura, “Waiting for an invitation princess? I didn’t poison it.” 

Hesitantly, Laura brought the mug to her lips and took a sip.

Her eyebrows shot upwards in irrepressible approval and Carmilla laughed freely. 

“Told you.”

“Wow…that’s…wow….,” Laura managed to get out. She tipped the bottom of the mug to the ceiling and poured half of the rich liquid down her throat. A milk moustache clung to her skin and she wiped at it messily. “Have you tried this before?”

“Not until now. I saw one of the waiters drinking it while I was in the kitchen.”

“Huh. From some of the things you’ve said I guess I assumed you had this food all time at home.” The words wandered out of her mouth unthinkingly, and she backpedaled hurriedly when she realised what she’d said. “Oh God I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that your family is rich or anything, I mean I did think the whole private tutoring thing was a little odd, and none of the Capitol food seemed new to you but - I know no one at home is well off. I’m sure there’s perfectly reasonable...reasons for all of this I just -”

“Whoa there motor-mouth,” Carmilla interrupted. Rather than offended, she appeared largely amused by Laura’s ramblings. “You’re right, my family is rather...well off. It’s a long story. But all these treats are new to me too, I’ve never been allowed them.”

“Not allowed?” Laura’s mind was reeling, unsure what new information to process first. “What do you mean? By whom?”

“Does it matter? I can eat them now.” Carmilla took a defiant bite from a cookie as if to prove it and Laura laughed. 

Something in the hoard of goodies caught Laura’s eye and she reached over in delight.

“Candy necklaces! I love these. I would save my spare work allowance for weeks to buy one.” She bit into the bright candy, unable to contain a delighted grin. She held another out for Carmilla. “Try it!”

Carmilla regarded it dubiously, much like the way Laura had looked at the shapeless marshmallows swimming in her mug. “I’m about ninety percent sure jewelry is meant to be worn, not eaten.” 

“Oh come on, it’s good!”

Carmilla took a bite and her face screwed up immediately. 

“Not good?” Laura asked.

“That’s foul.” Carmilla grimaced as she swallowed with effort. “Here, you take it. Disgusting undiluted sugar.” Her dark hair tickled Laura’s face as she hung it around her neck. “I’ve already got one,” she continued. So she did. The gold chain Laura had noticed before still hung around her neck. A small golden locket rested between her collarbones. She hadn’t noticed what hung on the chain before, due to Carmilla’s love for shrouding clothes. Had she been wearing it the whole time they’d been here?

“Will that be your token?” Laura asked curiously. A token was a small item like a ring or pin that some tributes chose to wear in the arena as a goodluck charm. 

Carmilla nodded and Laura leaned closer, examining the locket. 

“Can I see it?” 

This time Carmilla shook her head and smiled, though not unkindly, as she tucked it into her corset and out of sight, and Laura knew not to press anymore. 

“Can you play?” Carmilla asked her, diverting Laura’s attention to the piano they sat at. 

“Can I play the piano?” Laura repeated, “Gosh no! I’ve never even seen one before. What, can you?”

“A little.” She hovered her hands over the keys for a hesitant moment, then dropped them, fingers splaying over several keys.. The threads of sound wound around each other, swelling and filling the room. The silence that followed sounded somehow more absolute than before. 

“Would you like me to play you something?” Carmilla looked at her out of the corners of her eyes, watching Laura rather shyly.

Laura nodded eagerly. “Yes please.”

“Ok. Shove over.” Carmilla knocked Laura’s hip with her own and Laura shuffled down to the end of the stool. Carmilla shifted to the middle of the seat, adjusting her posture. 

She took a single breath in, and on the exhale brought her hands down on the keys. Spidering melodies were spun from the keys, then sweeping cadences and soaring harmonies. Laura stared at Carmilla’s pale, slender fingers brushing the keys, feeling an ache growing at the back of her throat in response to the heart-wrenchingly beautiful melody. When the last ringing notes of the piano had evaporated, Laura was bereft for words.

“Do you want to learn?” Carmilla was watching Laura’s face with a studious intensity, and Laura got the feeling that even though she hadn’t spoken, Carmilla understood how she felt.

“Learn? I mean, yes, of course, but I don’t think I could learn that -”

“It’s easy. Here, I’ll show you,” Carmilla interrupted, sliding her hand into the crook of Laura’s elbow and pulling her back on to the seat. “Watch carefully.”

With one hand, she played a sequence of five ascending notes.

Laura tried her best to mimic her. The resulting tune was horribly dissonant.

“Here.” Carmilla placed her hand over Laura’s and pressed down the fingers, recreating the tune. “Now you try.”

Laura reattempted, fingers still cool from Carmilla’s touch, and heard the bones of the elusive melody shape themselves into being.

“Nice,” Carmilla said approvingly. “Now just -” but she broke off as the distinct sounds of high-heeled shoes on the floor found their way into the room. The acoustic tapping sound of pointy heels on wooden floor immediately conjured up the corresponding image of Amanda tottering along, obviously roused by the noise they were making. The footsteps sounded distant, possibly coming from the main floor.

“Great,” Carmilla said. “We should get back before she finds us.”

“Are we not allowed in here or something?” Laura asked anxiously.

“It’s past midnight, we’re both out of bed and that women doesn’t even allow dessert. I’m not taking my chances.” 

“Good point.” 

They both stood up, and by the time Laura had gathered up a few packets of cookies to stash in her room, Carmilla was already at the door. She lingered there, hand resting on the frame. 

“So, I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Yeah,” Laura answered quickly. “See you in the morning.”

Even after Carmilla had disappeared into the hall, she stayed for a few seconds, eyes still gazing at the now empty doorway and arms hugging the cookies to her chest so tightly that they crumbled in her grip.


	6. Chapter 6

Carmilla traipsed down the stairs the next morning looking exactly like Laura felt; as though her head was still in the clouds and her body was on autopilot. 

Amanda had valiantly attempted to get them up at the crack of dawn, but had met strong resistance from Laura, and judging from her late arrival, Carmilla as well. Laura had steadfastly refused to get out of bed the first three times Amanda had rapped sharply on her door and ordered her to rise in an shrill voice. This had not been received well by Amanda. The brief cold war that ensued ended only when Amanda became so fed up she literally threw one of her pointy heels at Laura’s unsuspecting head. 

“Morning,” Laura greeted Carmilla when she slid into the chair opposite her. Carmilla grunted in reply and began to load up her plate. 

Any possibility of further conversation between them was squashed when Amanda sat herself next to Carmilla and began to complain loudly about the ‘hooligans from the district above, playing music into ungodly hours of the night’. She was thankfully interrupted by Tiffany, before Carmilla’s pathetic attempt at keeping a straight face could raise suspicion.

“Last full day of training today. If there is anything you two feel you need to learn or practice, you should be focusing on that. Tomorrow you may be feeling too nervous for your individual sessions in the afternoon to focus properly in the morning. Laura, have you managed to find anyone suitable to make an alliance with?”

Laura jumped at the opportunity to direct attention away from Carmilla, who was still pulling an extremely unconvincing and slightly terrifying I’m-most-definitely-not-guilty face.

“Actually, yes! I met the tributes from District 3 yesterday and I was thinking I might ask them today if they would like to be allies.”

There was a spluttering from across the table. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me! You mean the ginger tweedledum and tweedledee?” Carmilla scoffed, jabbing her spoon in the air for emphasis. “What help are those two _creampuffs_ going to be?”

Laura bristled. Just because Carmilla was set on a solo death mission didn’t mean Laura shouldn’t have the freewill to offer an alliance to anyone she wanted. “What does it matter to you who I pick anyway?”

Carmilla mumbled something unintelligible, her head tucked into her shoulders suddenly as she stared at the table with apparent great interest.

“What was that?”

Carmilla huffed, lifting her head from the table as if it cost her great effort. “I _said_ I had been thinking that me and you teaming up doesn’t sound like the _worst_ idea ever.”

For the second that it took Laura to overcome her surprise, she wondered what it was that had caused Carmilla’s mindset to change from _solo death mission_ to _alliance with Laura_. A bubble of happiness filled her chest. For the first time since she’d been picked, she was no longer alone. 

“And what if I don’t want to team up with a weakling like you?” Laura teased, unable to pass up the opportunity to give Carmilla some of her own medicine. 

“But-”

“I’m just kidding. Of course I want to team up with you, Carm.”

“Ok well, that’s good then, I guess. Whatever.” Carmilla sounded nonchalant, but the shy smile that crept onto her face betrayed her. 

Laura grinned and looked up to see both Tiffany and Amanda staring at them in bemusement.

“Do you understand what’s happening here?” Tiffany asked Amanda over Carmilla’s head. 

***

LaFontaine waved the pair of them over cheerily the moment they entered the training hall, sitting among an array of camouflage supplies. When they got closer LaFontaine held out their arms excitedly, paint splattered over them in a pattern that crudely resembled tree bark. 

“I’m a tree! Can you tell?”

“A modern day picasso.” Carmilla nodded at Perry, who sat with a paintbrush in hand. 

Laura shot a glare at Carmilla. The tension from their earlier discussion still hovered between them. 

Yesterday, LaFontaine had confided in Laura that they used the pronouns ‘they’ and ‘them’ as they were non-binary. Laura had done her best to assure them that the news was well received, even though she had no more experience with the term than memorising the textbook definition in order to get through her advanced classes. 

In the hopes of making sure LaFontaine felt fully accepted, Laura had relayed the news to Carmilla on the way down in the elevator. Carmilla had met it with her usual apathy, which shouldn’t have been surprising but somehow she had been hoping Carmilla would make an exception in this case and abandon her disdainful attitude. Her non-response left Laura in the dark as to how Carmilla felt about this news, so as they joined the District 3 tributes on the floor, Laura dug around in her mind for a topic that would hopefully steer clear of any territory where Carmilla could potentially make an insensitive remark. 

“So, Perry, how are you feeling about the Games?”

Next to her, Carmilla gave a characteristic snort. “Smooth, Sundance,” she muttered.

“Clam it,” Laura shot back.

“Well I’d have to say I’m rather nervous,” Perry replied, in the tone of which one might discuss an upcoming dinner appointment. “And you?”

“Yeah, nervous too, I guess.” Laura realised belatedly it was one of the more awkward topics she could have brought up; throwing around the fact that at least three of them would be dead in less than a week or two seemed a bit heavy for a friendly conversation.

“You guys should try this,” Laf suggested, nodding at the pile of paint brushes.

“Excellent idea,” Carmilla agreed, and proceeded to start drawing on Laura’s upper arm.

“You’ve got tough competition,” Laura laughed. The bark Perry was painting on Lafontaine now extended up their neck and towards their mouth. “Do you think this will actually help in the arena?”

“You never know. Our main hope of staying alive is staying hidden. That’s what I’ve planned Perry and mine’s entire strategy around. I’ve made things that will help us,” LaFontaine replied earnestly.

They rummaged around in a bag next to them and pulled out a small vial. 

“This is one of my favourite inventions - it's a serum which slows down your heartbeat to one beat per minute. Puts you in a coma.”

"Why on earth would anyone use that?" Carmilla cut in scathingly.

"To play dead! No one is going to try and kill someone who's lying already dead on the ground. Well, that's the plan anyway. It's risky though. I haven't exactly tested it on any human subjects yet you see, but I hypothesise that it may cause…adverse reactions in some people."

"What kind of reactions?" Laura asked, observing the vial with interest. A thick, clear liquid rolled around inside the tiny bottle.

"Well I’m just guesstimating here, but I would estimate perhaps a … fifty percent chance of death."

"Fifty percent?!" 

LaFontaine didn’t appear perturbed. "Yes, but don’t forget that’s still a fifty percent chance of survival. Personally, I would be willing to use it as a last resort. I've spoken to the gamemakers though, and they won't put it in. They probably consider someone dying peacefully while asleep to be too boring. I'm hoping to secure a sponsor to send it in for me, though."

"Wait,” Carmilla interrupted, her masterpiece on Laura’s arm forgotten. Laura looked down and found her arm covered in R-rated scribbles and choice swear words. Typical. “So the gamemakers will put some of the stuff you’ve invented into the Games?" 

"It’s not a guarantee,” LaFontaine admitted. “But I've had my mentor speak to them about a few ideas and they're on board. It's only fair you see - strong people can use their strength to their advantage and tributes skilled with weaponry will have plenty of arsenal available to them. This way I can use my talents in science to my advantage. For example..."

This time LaF produced a small ball out of their bag and held it up. It kind of resembled a small, metal apple, with small pinprick holes poked through it all over the surface.

"This is a smoke bomb I made. Just throw it on the ground and it releases a huge cloud of smog on impact. It can be used as a distraction to escape from a situation of potential confrontation. I'm not very skilled in hand to hand combat you see. Or…any combat, for that matter."

"You don't say," Carmilla muttered.

"I think it's great," Laura assured them. “I had no idea you could do all this!”

“Not just a pretty face.” LaF grinned goofily. 

“And on that note we’re just gonna go.” Carmilla stood and brushed off her pants, offering her hand to Laura. “I still haven’t tried the hand-to-hand combat station, and giving you a beating should earn me some serious points with the gamemakers.”

Laura scoffed. “What makes you think you’re going to be the one giving me a beating?”

“You mean apart from the fact that she’s pretty much a human killing machine?” LaFontaine interjected helpfully. 

“A human killing machine with the humour of a 12 year old,” Laura pointed out, indicating her arm. “Care to join us?”

Perry shook her head furiously and LaFontaine laughed. “I think we’re good here.” 

They left the District 3 tributes at the camouflage station and made their way across the hall to the hand-to-hand combat station.  
“You know,” Carmilla started conversationally, when they reached the station. She picked up a small knife and twirled it experimentally. “We should consider teaming up with those guys. LaFontaine and Perry.”

Laura stared at Carmila. “I literally just suggested that. Less than two hours ago.”

Carmilla ploughed on. “I initially thought they would just be useless dead weights. But now I’m thinking they might actually have some stuff to offer.”

Laura stared at Carmilla for several more seconds. “You called them the ginger Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”

“And so it turns out that Tweedledee might be extremely useful! You’re not getting cold feet are you?”

“No, no, I totally still want them on our team. I’m just...surprised that you do too.”

A training assistant approached them and the conversation was forgotten. 

Somewhat surprisingly, Laura discovered she wasn't half bad at combat. She had some natural strength and was able to execute the blocks the trainer showed her, even if they were rather messy. 

Carmilla on the other hand, was a whole different story. 

After showing them a range of moves, the trainer decided that they should spar against each other. He handed Carmilla a knife - fake, thankfully - and instructed her to try and hit Laura with it. Laura was to block her attempts for as long as possible. 

This turned out to be not very long.

The word “Go” had hardly left the trainer’s mouth before Carmilla took two steps forward in quick succession. Laura jumped backward in an attempt to stay out of her reach and so did Carmilla. Before she could regain her balance after Carmilla’s fake lunge, she flailed her arms and Carmilla was leaping forward, her movements fluid and lethally fast. The point of her knife rested on Laura’s collarbone. She was cornered. 

“You just died, cutie,” Carmilla smirked. “Tell me, how does it feel?”

“Frustrating,” Laura huffed. “Let's go again.”

“By all means, but I have a feeling we're going to have the same result.”

She was right. Even after the trainer intervened, demonstrating to Laura how to stand her ground, how to retaliate against Carmilla’s fast-paced and brutal attacks, how to combat her lethal moves, she still found herself with the tip of Carmilla’s knife pointing at her abdomen, or with the edge of the blade angled against her throat. Time and time again. Carmilla simply pulled out a different attack each time, leaving Laura confused, tired and with a multitude of hypothetical stab wounds.

“I don't get it,” Laura grumbled, after Carmilla had enjoyed herself by pretending to slice open Laura’s ribs. “How can you be so good at this? It's like you've done it all before.”

She had a vision swimming in her mind of Carmilla alone in her bedroom in District 7, sparring with an imaginary opponent. Had her parents hired trainers, mentors? Who in District 7 had the money to spend on combat lessons?

“Now, now, Hollis, you know that can't be true. It's much harder to be the defender anyway; why don’t you give this a shot?”

She offered Laura the knife, hilt-first.

They went at it for another hour. The training attendant, having lost interest in the one sided affair long ago, had wandered off somewhere when he realised there was about as much chance of Laura doing any damage to Carmilla as there was of the training hall being spontaneously invaded by a stampede of giraffes. 

An ache was growing in her muscles, burning down her arms. Her body wasn’t used to fighting off vicious eighteen year old girls with a remarkable handiness with a knife and a tendency towards violence. Her efforts to strike Carmilla were becoming increasingly pathetic. 

The two of them appeared to have commanded the attention of the Gamemakers. A few stood leaning against the balcony, drinks in hand, with appraising eyes trained on the two girls. Carmilla, at that moment, ducked under Laura’s outstretched arm and weaved behind her, snake-like and fluid. When she followed Laura’s gaze to the gathering of Gamemakers on the balcony, she stopped and stretched out her hand, palm-up.

“Time for a break?” Carmilla offered. “All this never-getting-hit is tiring me out.”

“Fine,” Laura agreed, slapping the fake knife into Carmilla’s outstretched palm. “But I’m calling that a draw.”

A bark of laughter erupted from Carmilla and she shook her head, as Laura couldn’t keep herself from giggling as well.

“Whatever you say. Anyway, I think I’ll go check out the knife-throwing station while you catch your breath.” 

“I’m fine!” Laura protested.

“Are you sure about that? Because you sound like an asthmatic horse.” Laura opened her mouth but Carmilla wasn’t finished. “If you really want to be helpful you could go and ask LaFontaine and Perry to be our allies.”

“You’re not coming? Don’t we both need to be there for official ally business?”

“How about I handle the hand-to-hand combat in this team, and you take care of business matters?” Carmilla retorted. “Now go. Shoo.”

As much as she was loathe to follow Carmilla’s orders like an obedient minion, she had to agree Carmilla was more suited to the physical side of things, and her to the social side. With that in mind, she sought out LaFontaine and Perry, trying to rearrange her features into what she hoped was the face of a great potential ally.

She found them back at the camouflage station where’d she had left them hours ago. 

“Oh, hey, Laura,” LaFontaine greeted her cheerily when she sat down. “Almost didn’t recognise you without your other half.”

“What?” Laura answered quickly. What did that mean?

“What?” 

Laura’s brow furrowed. “It sounds like you’re insinuating something.”

“Well you suggesting I’m insinuating something is insinuating something itself.” LaFontaine countered.

“Wha- I don’t there’s nothing-” Laura spluttered. “THIS IS NOT WHAT I CAME HERE TO TALK ABOUT.” 

“Wow touchy,” they laughed. “So what is on your mind exactly?”

“Ok, well,” Laura took a deep breath. “I talked to my mentor and she suggested a good strategy for me would be perhaps to have an ally. You guys seem super friendly and I know I won’t be that helpful in terms of fighting and such but I promise I’ll do my best and-”

“You want us to be allies with you?” Perry clarified. 

“Yes. Well not just me, Carmilla as well. I’m sorry, I know she’s not exactly super friendly to you guys, but it’s kind of a package deal.”

The three of them turned their attention to Carmilla, on the opposite side of the hall. She was currently flinging small silver knives and inflicting all kinds of mortal wounds on a practice dummy. A deft flick of her wrist, and three knives were scissoring through the air in quick succession. They buried themselves in the head of the target with definite _thumps._

“Um, you thought having her on our side was going to _discourage_ us from joining you?” LaFontaine laughed and extended their hand. “We’re in.”

“Great!” Laura beamed, shaking LaFontaine’s hand and smiling at Perry. Perhaps this politics business wasn’t as hard as it seemed. 

***

As expected, Tiffany was pleased with the news that District 3 had accepted their alliance and disappeared to her room that night to make the appropriate calls. Carmilla had also received the news that their proposal had been accepted well, which for her meant rolling her eyes and declaring, “I guess now our band of misfits is complete”. What was completely unexpected to Laura however, was that she would have to field an offer of alliance to _herself_ , the very next morning. 

She was minding her own business, spending her last few hours of training before the individual sessions tucked in the corner of the room, stretching out her tired muscles. Next to her, Carmilla lay on her back, arms tucked behind her head, not even trying to hide the fact that she was asleep. 

Laura was trying to work out a knot in her calf when several shadows loomed over her.

She craned her neck up to meet the imposing gazes of two of the larger career tributes. They stood at a distance close enough to Laura and Carmilla that it held the suggestion of a threat. 

“Laura right? I’m Danny Lawrence. This is Kirsh. We saw your display with the axe the other day. Pretty impressive.” It was the red-headed career who spoke, the one with the impossibly long legs. She had high cheekbones to match, pedestals for clear blue eyes. They were bordered by thin, orange eyebrows. Presently, both eyebrows were arched in a challenging glare.

“Oh! Thanks.”

“So what do you think? Want to team up?”

“What? Me?” She answered stupidly. 

Seconds passed as her mind struggled to comprehend the elusive idea. Two careers were asking _her_ to join them. They wanted Laura on their team. They had voluntarily offered Laura an alliance.

She felt Carmilla’s watchful gaze on her and realised she was sitting up. 

It was unexpected and flattering, to have the careers want her on their team. But she already had a team, and while Carmilla might have been on the right track when she described them as ‘a band of misfits’, she could bet they would be a whole lot more friendly than four giant strangers. Emphasis on giant. Also emphasis on strangers. Not to mention they’d never agree to letting LaF and Perry join them. Just the thought of abandoning those whom she had become closest to over the past few day sent an ugly twist through her stomach. And for what? The protection of the careers? When the other tributes were gone and the careers turned on each other, as was the typical progression of events during the Games, she would be the first to go.

“Sorry, but no thanks.” Laura shook her head. “I’ve got...other plans already.”

An immediate shift passed over Danny’s face like an ugly shadow. Her expression hardened to stone.

“What about you?” Kirsh piped up, unexpectedly. He was looking at Carmilla.

Danny shoot him a look. “Hey, we didn’t talk about her.”

“I know but she’s like, super strong and I’m kind of worried she going to-”

“Tempting, but I’m with her,” Carmilla interrupted, flicking her thumb in Laura’s direction. “Not to mention I’d rather pull out my teeth one by one than join your crew of assassins.”

“Wait, with her?” Danny asked. “As in…?”

“As in I’ll do what she does, you giant bumbling oaf. Now if you’d kindly leave us in peace, I’d like to get a move on with my super important training you just interrupted.”

Carmilla lay down and shut her eyes once again, leaving Danny gaping at her for a couple of seconds. Personally, Laura would not have been that comfortable shutting her eyes to Danny’s murderous glare. “Why you little -” She covered several metres in a few strides.

“Hey!” A trainer was watching them from across the room. “No fighting!”

Danny paused, but her lanky stance tremored with intent. She teetered on the edge of motion for a couple of seconds, before reluctantly taking a step back. Her keen eyes remained narrow though, and in them her furious desire to crush Carmilla’s skull into a grape was clear.

She pointed one slim, tapered finger at Carmilla. It trembled slightly. On anyone else it might have seemed like nervousness, but Laura could tell it was barely controlled anger that made it shake. “You better watch your back. I’m coming for you. C’mon Kirsh, let's go.”

“Come back never!” Carmilla called to their retreating backs. 

“What are you doing?” Laura hissed incredulously. “Taunting her like that, you’ll make her angry! Do you want them to target us?”

Carmilla shrugged. “They’re all going to try and kill us anyway, might as well have some fun while we’re at it.”

It took several seconds for Laura to formulate a reply to this flippant statement. “Getting Danny Lawrence all wound up is a weird way of having fun.” 

“Oh? So what do you do for fun then?”

“Not this, that’s for sure.” Laura said, gazing across the hall. Her eyes followed the training assistants, who were beginning to usher the tributes into the lunchroom. Afterwards they would be led one by one to their individual sessions, and given a rating meant to quantify their potential to the Games..

Carmilla laughed grimly. 

“You and me both,” she agreed.


	7. Chapter 7

Laura sat in silence after lunch, watching as the number of tributes in the room dwindled as time passed. The tributes' names were called one by one, disappearing into the training room for their private session with the Gamemakers. Mel, from District 1, was the first to enter the training room. The Gamemakers had been present and watchful through each day of training, but today’s performance would ultimately determine the score they gave to each of the tributes. Because the training was private, these scores gave the audience a starting point for betting and signified the promise of the tribute. 

The tributes were summoned in district and alphabetical order, meaning Laura would have to perform before Carmilla. Given that whichever of her many skills Carmilla chose to demonstrate was likely to blow the Gamemakers away, Laura was thankful for this small stroke of luck. Whoever went first from District 8 would have a tough act to follow.

The majority of tributes were quiet as they waited, but a nervous energy hummed through the room, occasionally showing itself in the twitch of a hand or unconscious fidgeting. A few paced up and down, and others quivered with apprehension. Laura was definitely in the latter group. Perry had even retreated with LaFontaine to the other side of the room after she said Laura’s aura was spreading bad vibes. 

Carmilla hadn’t said much all afternoon, except to ask Laura to please stop bouncing her leg so much before she caused a minor earthquake. That was until the second District 6 tribute was called, and Laura’s eyes trailed the tall, blonde girl as she was led through the double doors. Carmilla nudged her. 

“You good?”

“Oh yeah, I’m totally good,” Laura answered, mind stretched thin with panic, voice bordering on hysterical. “Just about to be judged for my training score which will determine whether or not anyone sponsors me, which could literally be the difference between living or dying. So y’know. No pressure right?”

“You’ll be fine.” Carmilla said easily. “You can throw an axe better than anyone else here, and you’re strong too, especially considering your size. Throw some weights around in there and you’ll surprise them.”

“But -”

“Look, don’t count yourself out alright? Because otherwise they will too.”

“Ok.” Laura breathed deeply, trying to take Carmilla’s advice to heart. Count herself out? She had counted herself out from the moment her name was called. What would it take to undo that action? “So ... what are you gonna do in there?”

Carmilla smirked. “I have to keep some of my secrets, don’t I? Otherwise I’ll lose my air of mystery.”

“District 7. Laura Hollis.” The automated voice that boomed through the room made Laura jump, and she whipped her head around, ponytail snaking along her neck, to see the doors that linked the dining hall and training hall slide open. 

It was Laura’s turn.

“Catch ya,” Carmilla said.

“Yeah.” Laura stood shakily, pausing to look back at Carmilla. “And, um, good luck for your session. Not that you need it.”

“Not that I need it,” Carmilla agreed with a wink. “But you too.”

Laura entered the training room. The first thing she noticed was that it looked as though no one else had been before her. The training hall was spotless, every station pristine.

The second thing she noticed was the Gamemakers gathered on the balcony, regarding her with differing levels of interest. Several milled around the edge, leaning over and watching her avidly, swapping quiet conferrals with each other. Others hung back, revolving around the food-laden table, apparently finding far more interest in a lavishly seasoned stuffed goose than Laura. 

Squaring her shoulders, she set course to the axe station. If they weren’t going to give her their attention freely, she had no choice but to try and command it.

Reaching the rack of axes, she took a brief moment to close her eyes. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she ran a hand over the sleek handles. The weight of the situation she was in suddenly felt unbearable. Here she was, about to show off her skills like a performing monkey so this group of pretentious puppeteers could give her a number based on how well they thought she could murder a child. She yearned, more than ever, for the quiet comfort of her home. She wanted to be going home after this to curl up on the threadbare couch, not returning to her prison upstairs to await her death. It wasn’t that she hadn’t know the situation she was in to be nefarious all along, but it was only now that the injustice of it was rising in her throat, choking her. 

She clutched an axe handle. 

When she slid it out of the rack, the metal on metal gave a long whine. It was a lonely sound in the silent room and helped hone her thoughts to the present task. This was her chance to make an impression and she had to use it, whether it was fair or not.

She turned to face the row of human-shaped targets. Six in all, facing her with indifferent regard. Five axes hung on the rack and one was heavy in her hand. She pulled the axe back, and the movement was so familiar that she was immediately able to slip into that easy rhythm that she remembered from the first day of training, and from countless days in the forest back at home. The awful nervousness that had been crawling over her skin was suddenly easy to shed, like a second skin. 

She exhaled in a rush as she released the axe. It thundered through the air and hit the human cutout in the head. A fatal blow. Without pause, she grabbed a second axe and lodged it forcefully into the stomach of the second target. She only paused to take breath when she had delivered deadly wounds to the rest of the targets, and it was then that she turned to survey the Gamemakers. 

Most of the Gamemakers looked impressed. The faint murmur of voices that carried to her sounded approving. Some remained busy at the feast, not bothering to notice her. After surveying their reactions, she realised the ones paying attention were watching her expectantly. 

_It wasn’t enough._

They had 15 minutes to show their skills. What had she used so far in her performance? Five? Maybe not even that. Obviously she couldn’t let the rest of the time go to waste. But what else could she show them? 

Panic was beginning to trickle down her spine. She racked her brain for another skill she had shown competency in at training. All the occurred to her was the knot tying station. Unhelpfully, her brain supplied the instructions for a knot used for tying poles together. She had sat at the knot-tying station for so long the diagram was imprinted onto her brain. Somehow, she doubted tying poles together for ten minutes was the sort of material to dazzle the Gamemakers. 

She scanned the room - and there. The weight station. Of course. She remembered Carmilla’s advice - to use her strength. She walked over and surveyed them. The largest was 80 pounds. She knew she could lift it. But was it enough? Surely some of the other tributes could lift the weight. Certainly some of the Careers. 

The weights were round, with two handles, one on each side. She picked up one, testing the weight. Her arm muscles strained but it was manageable. Now what? She could hardly parade laps around the room cradling a single weight in her arms. Not exactly impressive. 

She replaced the weight and cast her eyes over the array, an idea slowly forming. There were some lighter weights, that were still heavy, but she would be able to manage them with greater ease. 

There was no more time to waste, and she couldn’t stand around deliberating. She had to take this idea and run with it. 

Grasping two of the slightly lighter weights, she hefted them into the centre of the hall. When she dropped them, loud _clangs_ echoed jarringly. Not her intention, but maybe it would catch some of the less attentive Gamemakers’ attention. After lugging a third one into the middle, she found a rope from the knot tying station and brought it over. Maybe there _was_ a use for her newly acquired knot-tying skills after all.

She tied the weights together at the handles. When she was satisfied they were securely attached, she was left with a chain of three weights, resembling a sort of metal caterpillar. 

Grabbing onto the handle at the end of the chain, she pulled. The row of weights didn’t budge.

Panic was starting to settle in again, her breathing and heart rate increasing. She wiped her palms on her trousers and grabbed the handle for the second time. Bracing herself with her legs bent, she pulled anew at the weights with all her might. Thankfully, they shifted. Using the momentum from the weights to her advantage, she twisted her hips hard and her whole body followed. The row of weights picked off the ground so they were flying out in front of her as she turned. 

Muscles screaming with effort, she spun once, twice, and then let go, aiming for a cluster of training dummys that stood close by. 

The weights cannoned into the dummies, sending them crashing to the floor in a catastrophe of noise. 

Shoulders heaving, she stared at the dummies skidding across the floor crazily, then at the Gamemakers. Nearly all of them lined the rail of the balcony. Hands were gripping the rail, or the handles of glasses. Elation flooded through her. She had shown her strength, of course, but she hoped that some of the Gamemakers were impressed with the idea as well. A quick mind was a skill of its own.

Though there was no clock she could see, she guessed her performance had eaten up almost another 10 minutes. As the thought crossed her mind, a man cut through the crowd of Gamemakers to stand in the forefront. He held a tablet in his hand, but his eyes were on Laura.

“Thank you, District 7. You may go now.”

The only recognition of her performance. But she hadn’t expected anything more - they wouldn’t give any obvious clues to their impression. Still, the Gamemaker’s impassiveness didn’t help the nervous squirming in her stomach. Was her demonstration enough? The possible scores ranged from 1 to 12, 1 being so horrendously low it was extremely rare for a tribute to be awarded it, though not impossible; while 11 and 12 were so high they were practically unattainable. A 10 was the highest a tribute hoped to make, and Laura was under no delusion that she was in the running for that. The best she could hope to obtain was probably a 7 - a more than respectable score. Whether it was enough to get attention from sponsors next to the Careers was impossible to say.

***

Dinner was a quiet affair. Laura was too nervous to say much, and Carmilla shrugged off any questions Amanda or Tiffany directed at her. Afterwards, they migrated to the sitting room to watch the scores be announced on television, live for the whole nation’s viewing. 

A photo of Mel filled the screen first and her score flashed below it. Eight. It was high, but not surprisingly so. Career tributes often scored around that mark. Her face disappeared and was replaced by Danny Lawrence. Nine. Wilson Kirsh was next. Another nine. It appeared the careers would be extra deadly this year. Lovely. 

After the second District 2 boy scored a seven, a friendly face appeared. Susan LaFontaine. District 3. Six. Laura breathed a sigh of relief that the Gamemakers had acknowledged LaF’s unconventional talents. Next to her, Carmilla gave a small approving nod. Her posture appeared relaxed, slouched low on the couch, but her eyes were focused on the screen, taking everything in. 

The next score sent Laura’s heart sinking. Lola Perry. District 3. Three. She tried to remind herself that the training score wasn’t everything. Sometimes tributes chose to hide their skills until the arena in the hopes of gaining an advantage. Somehow she didn’t think this was the case for Perry. 

Then the boy from District Four’s face was flashing up on the screen. Deep set eyes amongst pearly pale skin appraised Laura from the screen. His mouth was quirked in an easy grin but his expression was far from friendly. Under dark eyebrows, a challenge hid in his eyes. Laura felt compelled to break eye contact, even though he couldn’t actually see her.

An eleven appeared in the corner of the picture, glinting threateningly. Laura felt her stomach slide into her feet. So he didn’t just have an intimidating nature - he was deadly. If she was caught within ten feet of him in the area she wouldn’t have a chance of survival. Just the thought of being in close proximity to him made her want to throw up. Carmilla’s jaw was clenched tight and her eyes downcast, not lifting her head until the next name was read. 

The next few Districts were disinterestedly average. Her nerves tightened every time a silver number appeared in the corner of the screen, wondering how she would compare. Finally, her image was brought to life on the screen. It was a photo she had never seen before, and she suspected it had been digitally rendered from footage of her since arriving at the training centre. 

It was disconcerting to see her face as part of the reel of tributes, realising every other tribute was watching her face. She looked innocent and harmless. 

Fingernails dug into her palms and the back of her neck burned. 

A seven appeared. The air clenched inside her lungs rushed from her mouth. She was caught in a head-spinning moment of staggering relief warring with disappointment. It wasn’t a number that would be setting the other tribute’s nerves on edge by any means, but she was thanking her lucky stars that she hadn’t scored lower. 

“Well done, Laura,” Tiffany praised warmly, and Laura turned to see genuine approval on her face. Amanda was squealing happily, obviously delighted. Carmilla was perhaps not as alarmingly exhilarated as Amanda, but pleased nonetheless. She shot Laura a smile that said _well done._ Laura smiled back and turned from Carmilla’s approving face to see her rather more stony expression appear on screen.

The room was strangely airless as they waited for the verdict. Laura was afraid to even swallow, not wanting to break the charged silence.

Small silver strokes formed the number ten.

The tension broke - not an explosion as was the aftermath of Laura’s score. It was closer to a stunned silence. Carmilla had been flaunting her deadliness since day one to Amanda and Tiffany but now she had proved it. It spoke volumes more. 

There was a grim smile on Carmilla’s face. Laura saw no trace of the relief that had accompanied her own verdict, but she supposed Carmilla hadn’t expected anything less from herself. She had talked the talk and now here was the proof; she was lethal. 

***

Time had a habit of speeding up when Laura wanted nothing more than for it slow down. The next morning, the last before the beginning of the games, disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

The fact that she would be entering the arena tomorrow still didn’t feel real. Her brain kept trying to convince her she would wake up tomorrow and it would be another day of training, seeing LaF and Perry in the Training Hall and swapping conversation, trying to learn how to camouflage her arm so as to resemble a tree. She barely had time to dwell on the fact that she would never again be spending a day with Carmilla, LaF and Perry in comfortable companionship, as their floor was dizzyingly busy with preparation for the interviews that night. 

In front of millions of Capitol members, the tributes would each be interviewed on stage, probed for information regarding their home life and family, and their tactics for the games. They were painting portraits of themselves for which the people of the Capitol would base their betting on. To make the contestants of these twisted Games that much more realistic. Laura would never understand how the Capitol members revelled in this. 

Nor would she understand how they managed to get around while balancing precariously on dubiously thin sticks. Amanda had introduced the concept of ‘high heels’ to Laura, informing her that it was a requirement that she wore them for the interview. While Carmilla conferred with Tiffany on how to present herself for the interview, Laura spent the morning walking laps around the living rooms with six inch heels on her feet. The process was made even trickier by the fact that she had to wear a floor-length gown while doing so. 

With the arches of her feet aching, Amanda finally conceded it was time to work on other areas of her interview.

“Now, straighten your back, Laura. Good. No, but don’t stick out your stomach. Pull your stomach in. Well, now you’re slouching again. Straighten your back.” The barrage of instructions was relentless. Not only did she have to concentrate on simultaneously keeping her spine straight and her stomach pulled in, she was to never cross her legs at the knee, only the ankle, keep her hands folded in her lap and nowhere else and be making attentive eye contact, all while plastering a bright smile on her face.

While Laura liked to think of herself as a naturally bright and cheerful person, she was finding it difficult to muster up a smile after forty-five minutes of this instruction. 

“Laura,” Amanda chastised seriously. “No one will want to sponsor you with that … hoity toity look on your face.”

“My face is not hoity toity! I’m smiling! _See?!_ ” Laura directed a forced smile at Amanda.

Amanda sniffed sternly at her deranged grin. “ _That_ is not the kind of smile that will make the Capitol love you.”

“I don’t want them to love me! They want to watch me die! I don’t need their _love._ ” Laura spat back.

“If you want them to sponsor you, you will need their love.” She sighed loudly through her nose. “Laura, Laura, Laura, have you listened to anything I’ve been saying? It’s not about being genuine. It’s all about putting on a show. Telling a story. Like what I’m doing right now. I’m putting on a show and pretending I don’t want to strangle you.”

“Well, thank you for being so considerate of my feelings,” Laura snapped. She felt worn out, in her muscles, in her mind. Her cheeks ached from smiling. Her dignity ached from being made to act like a dress-up doll. 

Thankfully, for the sake of Laura’s sanity, the session didn’t last much longer. Laura and Carmilla swapped positions, Laura to the dining room for advice on how to act in her interview, Carmilla to the living room to take Laura’s place in learning how to present herself with Amanda.

“The one thing I want you to remember is that this is a show.” 

This was the first thing Tiffany said to Laura when she had settled herself at the table, opposite to Tiffany. “You are not going on stage to show them how scared you are, how inhumane you think the Games are, how much you wish you were at home. Because no one wants to hear that.” She appraised Laura for a moment. Laura held her gaze nervously until Tiffany continued. “Now, with that in mind, we have to figure out what kind of image you want to present. No offence intended, but I think you will struggle to pull off the kind of ruthless, confident persona that a lot of tributes will be going for, like Carmilla.”

“None taken,” Laura chipped in.

“Good. Now, I’m suggesting you go for a more innocent approach. I know that seems counterintuitive - after all, they’re sponsoring you on how likely you are to win the Games - but sometimes that helps you to stick out. Like I said, most tributes are going to be trying to come off as deadly as possible. You’ll be taking the other road, so people will remember you. And if people like you, they will sponsor you. Some people bet on who they think will win, but others bet on who they want to win. We’re going to make them want you to win.”

“Okay,” Laura replied, already feeling light-headed.

If she had hoped that her session with Tiffany would include less rapid-fire instructions than Amanda’s, she was to be proved disappointingly wrong. Tiffany launched question after question at her, all of which Laura was to answer with her ‘innocent’ persona. Her head spun from trying to formulate responses and make them seem natural.

Tiffany must have noticed, because they stopped to take a break.

“Don’t forget, there will be some personal questions which you can answer with more honesty. If you are genuine from time to time, it will help to endear them towards you.”

After their session was concluded, she was transferred to her third and final supervisor for the day - Orazio. Her stylist, thankfully, was less concerned with bombarding Laura with instructions, and more with having her stay as still as possible while he prepared her face and hair for the interview. After spending the day tromping around in heels and being grilled on various responses to questions, Laura was more than happy to comply.

“Have I mentioned how much I _adore_ your hair? So beautiful!” Orazio, who had in fact mentioned it four times that day, chirped. Laura was unable to reply, as one of the stylists was applying lipstick to her mouth at that moment, while somebody else held her eyes open so as to layer on mascara.

She was turned to face the mirror after her face had been deemed suitably made-up and found not quite a stranger, but a much different Laura looking back. While her features were more or less the same, her skin was flawlessly smooth and unmarked; her eyes bright and long-lashed, her eyebrows appealingly shaped and seemingly brushed. This Laura could never have spent years felling trees in the forest, acquiring freckles and lifelong scars. This Laura looked much more like she was raised in the pristine streets of the Capitol.

She was then helped into her dress, which was a delicate process, as not an inch of the pale pink silk could touch her powdered face. 

She looked at the full-length mirror again. To her dismay, the dress was floor-length.

Apart from the unfortunate drawback of the dress’ inconvenient length for walking in, it was the single most beautiful thing she had ever worn. The underlayer was simply a sleeveless piece of silk wrapped around her torso and falling down to her feet. A bilious sheet of sheer fabric began at the front of her waist and fell in a big loop around to her back. More of the same fabric covered her torso loosely, falling into wide sleeves that were secured at her wrist. She looked totally innocent, like a floating, pink cloud. 

They met up with Amanda, Tiffany and Carmilla at the elevators. Carmilla was dressed in a dark green dress, floor length, and fashioned from some sort of velvet. It was a stark contrast to Laura’s floaty gown; the dark green velvet accentuated her pale skin and blood-red lips. The dress was gathered down her torso, sleeveless, but her shoulders and arms were covered in dark green lace. 

Carmilla caught Laura staring and winked. “You scrub up well Hollis.” 

“Thanks.” Laura blushed, returning her eyes to the floor where they couldn’t go wandering. 

The whole way down to the bottom floor Amanda gushed over how beautiful they both looked and Laura let herself be carried away in her compliments, distracting herself from the knowledge that it would be only minutes until she was in front of the crowd, the cameras, all of Panem.

Carmilla’s hand bumped against Laura’s and her fingers curled around her wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her fingers lingered there until the elevator doors opened and Laura felt the loss of contact as soon as they stepped out. 

She barely had time to say goodbye to her team before all the tributes were led in single file onto the brightly light stage. They were seated in a big arc at the back, behind two empty chairs that sat in the middle.

For as far as she could see, the City Circle and the avenues that fed into it were completely packed with people. Television crews were everywhere, set up on balconies of surrounding buildings. At homes and community halls around the country, every television set would be turned on. Every citizen of Panem tuned in. 

Laura was suddenly glad she was sitting down as her legs began to feel weak and her palms started to sweat. She glanced to the left where Carmilla sat next to her, but she was staring straight ahead, her mouth set in a hard line. 

Fonzie Wittman, the man who had always hosted the interviews, bounded on stage. He entered a brief introduction before the interviews commenced, each to be about three minutes long. They were too short, time slipping away as each tribute descended to the chairs in the middle of the stage. The Districts inched closer and closer to 7 and Laura’s heart pumped faster and faster. She could feel her pulse in her throat, in her wrists, in her stomach. 

Fonzie was obviously very good at his job and did his best to make the tributes shine. He was friendly, tried to set the nervous ones at ease, laughed at lame jokes, and could turn a weak response into a memorable one by the way he reacted. 

As for the tributes, each one seemed to play up some sort of angle. Danny Lawrence was brimming with confidence. Kirsh, from District 2, was surprisingly charming. LaFontaine came across as highly intelligent and made sure to mention their inventions. The boy from District 4 was cruel, and kept an evil grin on his face while Fonzie discussed his impressive training score. 

Before she knew it, they called Laura Hollis. 

Careful not to trip in her heels or on her dress, a task made infinitely harder by her shaking legs, she stood and made her way to centre stage. 

Fonzie shook her hand firmly and gestured for her to sit. Out the corner of her eye she could see thousands of eyes on her, and did her best to focus only on Fonzie’s face in front of her. 

“So, Laura, you must be pleased with your training score, a seven is very solid.”

 

“Thank you,” Laura nodded. After a second she remembered Amanda’s instructions, and plastered the brightest smile she could muster on her face. 

“A little birdy told me you used a skill from your work in District 7 to your advantage. Can you tell us about that?”

“I work - worked, I mean, in the forest at home. Cutting trees, transporting wood and things like that. So I can use an axe pretty well…” She trailed off, unsure if she was boring the crowd, but Fonzie beamed and nodded at her, encouraging her to keep talking. “I can throw them pretty well too. My Dad-my Dad taught me.”

Quick as a flash, Fonzie picked up on the crack in Laura’s voice as she mentioned her Dad. 

“What is your relationship like with your father?” He pressed, leaning forward. 

“Very good,” Laura answered quickly. Tears pricked at her eyelids as she imagined him watching as she spoke, but she willed herself not to cry. Not with everyone watching. “It’s just me and him at home, so we’re very close. He taught me everything I know. I love him very much.”

“It must have been hard for him to say goodbye,” Fonzie sympathised, and Laura could only nod. 

He switched topics again, keeping the conversation rolling. “So we know your strength; axe throwing would certainly make you a huge threat in the arena. What would say your greatest weakness would be? Without giving too much away of course.”

Her greatest weakness? Tiffany hadn’t prepared her for this question. In a moment of panic she looked around for inspiration, and her eyes settled on the tributes behind her. Those still to come sat nervously, not paying her the slightest attention. The young girl from District 8 who had to be carried on stage at her reaping was crying again, silent tears sliding down her cheeks as with every word Laura spoke her own turn edged closer. 

“Empathy,” Laura said quietly, as the thought hit her. 

“Pardon me?”

“Empathy,” Laura spoke again, more firmly this time. “It would be hard for me to see the other tributes die.”

Fonzie’s dazzling smile slipped a little. “Well of course it won’t be pretty, but this is the Hunger Games! A little bit of killing just comes with the territory.”

“No. I won’t do it,” Laura answered immediately. The crowd fell silent and Laura’s heart dropped as she realised she’d spoken the words out loud. Warning bells sounded in her head as Fonzie stared at her, forehead crinkled. 

“You mean to tell me you plan to go into the arena...and not kill anyone?”

“Yes.” 

The crowd broke out in chatter, and Laura could just imagine how Amanda would be reacting at the moment. Probably pleading with Laura to stop talking before she dug a bigger hole for herself. But there was no taking back what she’d said. She didn’t want to take back what she’d said. 

“My dear. How on earth can you expect to win without killing?” Fonzie laughed incredulously.

“I don’t know.”

The noise from the crowd grew, tittering amongst themselves. They were unhappy and Laura knew it was because of what she was saying. This was their yearly entertainment, the highlight of their sick calendars; to watch children attempt to brutally murder one another. And here was one, saying she wouldn’t do it. They weren’t disappointed that Laura’s announcement meant she would most likely die, and die early. They were disappointed that she would provide them with no entertainment. Laura’s blood began to boil.

“Preposterous-” Fonzie was saying. 

“Preposterous?” Laura snapped. “You want me to fight to the death with a group of children, and _I’m_ preposterous? You might have all convinced yourselves with your twisted logic that you’re doing the right thing, that it's essential for the survival of the country or whatever, but I cannot be forced to kill someone. Which means I will die. So thanks for that.”

Then, not waiting for the buzzer to signify the end of her allotted time, she pushed herself up from the chair and swept back to her seat in the line. The noise from the audience had reached fever-pitch, and Fonzie was struggling to control the swell of sound before calling for the next tribute. Laura clenched her eyes shut and willed herself to just sit still, knowing she had just completely gone against all of Tiffany’s advice. If she didn’t move until this was all over, then she maybe she wouldn’t be able to do anything else stupid. 

The audience was still buzzing by the time had Carmilla had taken her seat next to Fonzie, though the din barely registered with Laura, a fuzziness inside her head blurring everything out. 

It didn’t take long for the strongest of her anger to subside and an urge to vomit to rise. She’d done it now. Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut? The entire Capitol was going to think her a joke, not to mention the rest of the tributes.

Eventually Fonzie managed to quiet the audience down, and he turned to Carmilla with an apologetic smile. 

“Wow! Suffice to say _that’s_ something we haven’t heard before! Tell me Carmilla, is there something in the water back home? Is a refusal to kill something you will share with your fellow District 7 tribute?”

For the first time since coming on stage, Carmilla smiled, if you could call it that. The corners of her lips certainly pulled up, but the result was more of a grotesque twist that made Laura’s skin crawl than a smile. 

“That won’t be a problem,” Carmilla replied cooly. “I fully intend to win the Games, and I will let nothing, and no one stand in my way.” A cloud passed over her face and the ruthless grin on her face spread. “No one will be spared. Even if I have to kill every last tribute with my own bare hands.”

After that, Laura didn’t hear another word that Carmilla spoke. 

***

As soon as they were back on their floor, Amanda ripped into Laura, waving her hands around wildly as she spoke. “What were you thinking? It’s one thing to tell us your hair-brained ideals _in private_ but _who_ in the world is going to put their money behind a tribute who refuses to kill? Hey Laura? Who? WHO?” 

She didn’t respond. Barging past both Amanda and Tiffany, she headed straight for the stairs. From behind her she heard Carmilla call out to her, acknowledging her for the first time since in the elevator that evening, but Laura didn’t pause or turn around. Only when when she was back in her room with the door slammed shut and bolted, did she allow the tears to fall. 

She’d been such an idiot. Agreeing to an alliance with Carmilla because of what? She was nice to her on occasion? She couldn’t believe she’d allowed her naivety, her willingness to believe Carmilla was just misunderstood, to be exploited so easily. When had she become so gullible? 

Carmilla’s little spiel on stage tonight had left nothing to the imagination. Carmilla Karnstein was a ruthless killer, and not only had Laura voluntarily made herself an easy target by agreeing to alliance, but she’d let LaFontaine and Perry be dragged into it as well. That was why Carmilla had been so willing to let LaFontaine and Perry join them, even with Perry’s stark lack of talent and promise. Would they even survive their first night? Or would Carmilla volunteer as first watch and slit their throats while they slept? 

Laura dragged her fingers through her hair fretfully, pulling it out of it’s elaborate style. Any security she’d felt had disappeared, leaving her feeling horribly untethered. She had the choice to stay in an alliance that would likely result in her death, or brave the arena alone. She didn’t want either option. She wanted the comfort of her alliance with Carmilla, but it turned out that was nothing more than an illusion. 

She lay on the bed and pulled a fluffy pillow over her face, trying to drown out the voice in her head that kept asking, again and again: _What have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of Carmilla in this one - the focus on Laura's private session and then interview made it hard for her to crop up very often. Last chapter like it, we promise :)


	8. Chapter 8

Laura peered blearily at the clock on her bedside table. The digital face flashed 1:33 AM back at her. She must have eventually drifted off. She realised she was still wearing her interview dress, and when she lifted her head from the pillow she found an imprint left from the makeup still on her face. 

She slipped off the bed, staggered to the bathroom, still half asleep, and looked in the mirror. Her reflection looked haggardly back at her. Mascara was smudged in the hollows under her eyes and in ugly streaks down her cheek. Lipstick was rubbed blotchily on her chin. She was an utter mess.

She ran a fluffy white face towel under the tap and scrubbed hard at the makeup on her face, but it stubbornly refused to budge. 

Tossing the towel into the sink, she became aware of the gnawing hunger in her stomach. She started to regret forgoing dinner earlier as she contemplated how far away breakfast was. She was just starting to consider whether she had the nerve to ransack the kitchens like Carmilla had the other night when she remembered there were still snacks stashed in the piano from that particular expedition. 

Outside her room, shadows pooled in the hallway. Hitching her dress above her knees, she took careful steps to the double doors - and then froze, one foot hovering in the air. 

She had heard a sound of some sort, but it was too quiet to be able to distinguish it. She was already forgetting what it sounded like when she heard it again. It was almost definitely a sniff. Was it Amanda or Tiffany from the lower level? Or Carmilla from her room? 

Not wanting to be caught wandering around the hallways by the mysterious sniffer, she crept quickly to the double doors and pulled them open.

Her heart thumped urgently in her chest.

Someone was already in the room, a crouching figure silhouetted against the full-length windows. 

When the aftermath of sudden panic had left her body, she realised it was the person who had been sniffing. Only now that she was in the room, she realised it was crying, not sniffing she had heard, and that the person in question was Carmilla. 

She padded into the room and past the piano. 

“You’re here,” Laura said. Carmilla was a jumble of limbs, with her knees tucked under her chin and her fingers circling her ankles.

“Been here a while,” Carmilla answered, without turning around. 

Laura was torn. On one hand, Carmilla was the reason she had just spent the evening locked up in her room, terrified for her life more than ever. On the other, here she was crying, and it would probably be considered more than slightly rude if Laura just grabbed the cookies she came for and ran. Although the temptation to do the latter was strong, she tried for a compromise, and perched herself on the piano stool in front of the food as she spoke again.

“What are you doing?” 

“Looking at the stars. It’s comforting. To think how small we are in comparison.”

Laura had expected a less profound answer. Maybe one that explained why she was out of her room, alone, crying to herself and staring at the stars at 1:30 in the morning. “Oh,” was all she managed in reply.

Carmilla lifted her chin from her knees and looked at Laura over her shoulder. Despite her red-rimmed eyes, she looked as terrifying as ever. “And you?” She asked.

As if in response, Laura’s stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly. “I came to get food.” She stood up with a packet of cookies in her hand, and looked back towards the door. “But you’re already in here, and the last time I saw you, you were telling the whole nation how you’d like to slaughter me with your own two hands, so...”

Carmilla turned back around, but not before Laura saw her face twist into a pained expression. “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what you meant. When you said you wouldn’t spare anyone. I know we made an alliance, but we both know how that’s going to end. You scored a ten, for God’s sake! And I won’t even kill anyone.”

Carmilla groaned into her knees. “You don’t understand.” She sniffed, wiping her forearm along her face messily. “This...obligation. It’s like an undersea anchor, impossible to escape.”

Laura hovered in the space between the piano and Carmilla. There was something Carmilla wasn’t telling her. After a few second of deliberation she placed herself next to her on the floor, legs crossed. Carmilla didn’t tear her gaze away from the endless sea of lights before them. 

She looked desperately sad. Her eyelashes were clinging together with tears. Tiny pools were gathered in the inner corners of her eyes. It was her unbroken gaze on the stars that tugged on Laura’s heart painfully, though. The deep and terrible misery on her face, the way her lower lip trembled. Her expression was the particular breed of sadness that would’ve been unknown to the Laura of a few weeks ago. This Laura, though, who had been torn from her home and family, she knew heartbreak and homesickness and she wanted to know what made Carmilla look like she did, and she wanted to help. 

“I don’t get you. With me you act like you don’t want to be here and then you go on stage and say you can’t wait to slaughter everyone.” 

Carmilla didn’t respond. 

Silence stretched between them for a few more minutes. From far below, the sound of rejoice drifted up. Laura looked down and saw a colourful party taking place on the streets below them. Finally she looked over at Carmilla again. “Are you scared?”

Carmilla clenched her eyes shut tightly. “Yes.” It looked as if it cost her to spit the word out.

“You are?” Laura asked. Although most people would’ve been scared at the prospect of the upcoming Games, she hadn’t though Carmilla would be one of them, and if she was, she didn’t think she would admit it.

“Yeah, but so what?” Carmilla’s jaw was visibly clenched. 

“So what? So everything. This is unfair. It's inhumane. Don't you want to fight it?”

“I _can’t fight it!_ ” Carmilla shouted. The words ricocheted agitatedly around the room. She sucked in a breath, slow and rattling, then continued. “Okay? I can’t. It’s - it’s - _different_ for me. The games are something you spend your whole childhood trying to avoid. But for me ... the Games are all I have. They are my final goal and I have _no life beyond_ them. Winning the Games is my purpose, that's it.” An endless stream of tears were beginning to trickle down her already soaked cheeks. 

Laura was silent while Carmilla’s words resounded. She knew, in Districts such as 1, 2 and 4, winning the Games was an honour - so much so that some trained for them, then volunteered. The risk of death was a chance they were willing to take for the glory of being crowned Victor. She knew that the culture was accordingly very different in those Districts - instead of trying to forget the Games existed, they trained intensely for them, even though it was technically illegal to do so. If they were chosen to volunteer, they eagerly awaited Reaping Day, rather than dreading it. That kind of mindset, the one that saw the Games as a chance for ultimate glory, was one Laura had never encountered in District 7. But it might have explained why Carmilla was here.

_Winning the Games is my purpose, that’s it._

“That can’t be true. I know it seems like that now, but that doesn’t mean you have to accept it. No one deserves to die like this. And I don't believe they're your purpose in life,” Laura announced. “You still had your life leading up to this. They can’t take that away.”

Carmilla smiled humourlessly. “That’s sweet, but you don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I had no other life."

“I don't understand,” Laura said. 

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time. It’s not like I could sleep anymore anyway. Not knowing we’re going into the arena today.” 

After a moment of deliberation, Carmilla sighed. “Make yourself comfortable then. We’ll be here a while.” She appraised Laura for just an instant. “It all comes back to Lilita Morgan.”

The name tickled at the back of her mind until her brain dug up a face to match it. "The old president?” In her mind, she saw grim, narrowed eyes and a tight-lipped smile. But that couldn’t be right. What would the child of the former President of Panem be doing living in District 7? Let alone partaking in the Hunger Games. 

"That’s her,” Carmilla affirmed. “My dear mother. Anyway, she wants to get back into power and her plan is to -”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Laura held up her hands. “We’re going to need to go several steps back here. President Morgan is your _mother?_ ”

“Not my birth mother. I was born here, in the Capitol. My parents died in an accident when I was very young. I was raised in an orphanage until -”

“ _What?_ ” Laura spluttered. “You were _born_ here?”

“Yes, keep up.” Carmilla sighed. “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. Go on.”

“I lived in the orphanage for quite a few years. I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you that not many Capitol residents want children, much less ones they would consider ... second-hand. Then Lilita Morgan, my mother, was overthrown as President. You probably remember that. You would’ve been about eight. I was nine. Anyway, right after she was overthrown she adopted me. And others too. There were about fifteen of us in all, all orphans that she adopted. We lived with her in a mansion for a couple of months. There were servants that looked after us, we could roam around the house freely, and there were all the other kids to play with. For an orphan, it was paradise… ” She paused, chewing on her lip for a second, eyes faraway, then barrelled on. “I thought it the beginning of my real life. My second chance. But then one day we were split up and shipped out all across the country. Mattie - one of the other kids - was sent to District 2. We were spread out everywhere, one even to District 12. As you already know, I landed in -”

“District 7,” Laura breathed. 

“Yes.” She closed her eyes at the memory. “There, a large house awaited me, and more servants. And a team of tutors - some for combat, some for education. From the very first day I trained five hours a day, in every type of combat imaginable. The rest of my time was spent in class, learning everything I would have been taught if I attended school and then some, but obviously it was more about the fighting. That’s all I was there for, really. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. I didn’t know why I had to live alone, or why I couldn’t go to school or ever make any friends.”

“She didn’t tell you?” 

“Not at that point. I was so young, I didn’t question it. When you go from having nothing … no parents, no home .... and then suddenly, you get taken to this mansion with heaps of other kids … well, I took it for granted. It was different when I went to District 7, though, because I was alone. And when I asked the servants if I could meet some children my age, or at least go into town, because the loneliness was becoming unbearable, I was told no. That I must stay inside at all times. I had no choice but to accept and do as I was told.”

Laura gave Carmilla’s knee a comforting squeeze and let her hand rest there as Carmilla continued. 

“Then exactly a year after District 7 became my home, a car was sent for me, and I travelled back to the Capitol to the mansion. It was the first time I had left the house since I’d arrived. All my adopted siblings were there too. I hadn’t seen any of them, or Mother, for a year. That was when she told us. The reason for all of it. We stayed a week, then we went back home and didn’t see each other for another year. Every year at the same time we would return to the Capitol for a week and she would check on our progress. We had exams, written and physical. And that was my life, for over ten years. Until last year, when Mother told Mattie that she would be entered into the Games. This year it was my turn.”

“So what was it? Your mother’s plan?”

“She wants to win five consecutive Hunger Games - well, not _her_ personally of course, but us, the kids, acting as puppets. Mattie was last year, and her first success, and now it’s me. Then she’s going to reveal to the Capitol what she's done. Vordenberg will be a laughing stock." 

“Wait - her plan to get back into power … is to _embarrass Vordenberg?_ ” Laura asked incredulously.

“I know it seems strange to you. But you never lived in the Capitol - not until now, anyway. The culture isn’t the same as in the Districts. It’s all about appearances. I mean, you see the ridiculous things they go around wearing. The tattoos, the piercings … they’re obsessed. Their image means more to them than anything. They would rather die than be humiliated. And you know the Hunger Games is the pride of the Capitol and the reigning President. When Mother reveals that she managed to infiltrate them, to corrupt the Games and make a mockery of them … it will be the end of Vordenberg’s reign.”

“So, Mattie - the one you said she sent in last year - that was Matska Belmonde?” Laura asked, remembering last year’s Victor. She had meant nothing to her at the time. Another tribute who was lucky enough to survive the Games. But she hadn’t been lucky after all. She had been a pawn, put into the Games as a strategic asset, designed to win from the start. Just as Carmilla was.

Carmilla nodded. "My sister."

Laura blew a breath out slowly while she processed this information. While the tributes were forced to play the Games every year, a different sort of game had been going on behind the scenes, of the political sort. She hadn’t thought much of the former President’s dethroning when it happened. She definitely hadn’t suspected she was bitterly plotting to regain her throne by staging an intricate scheme using adoptive children as pawns.

At least now she knew the answers to all the questions she had wanted to know. Why Carmilla had been such a good fighter, taking so easily to all the stations with the effortless ease of the Careers. Why she reacted so indifferently to her selection as tribute in the Hunger Games - she had known for years. She had been training her body, her mind, since she was a child. It even explained her unusual early arrival on stage at the Reaping - of course, she had known that her name would be called.

“So you were raised to be sent into the arena. Like a lamb to be slaughtered.”

“Not a lamb to be slaughtered. A sheep, to slaughter everyone else.”

Laura sat thinking for a second. One thing was still bothering her, but she thought she might have her answer. 

“So earlier tonight, at the interviews, that was what? An act?”

“A practised one.” Carmilla nodded. “All part of the image I want to project to the public. My mother will already have a large hand in the Games, but combined with the sponsors I expect to pull, well, you could almost say the odds _are_ in my favour.”

“I think you could definitely say that,” Laura agreed, still dumbfounded. “But that doesn’t make sense with all this moping. What are you so worried about? You're a shoo-in.” 

Carmilla gave a wry smile. Although she hadn’t taken her gaze off the sky for almost the entirety of the conversation, it was even more resolutely locked on the view now. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But no, the plot thickens. You probably don’t remember, but during the Games last year Mattie was sleeping and the Gamemakers sent in an avalanche, and she was almost crushed. My mother was furious. And now it’s the second year, so it’s even more important she wins. To keep it consecutive, you know.” She stopped and swallowed. “So this year my mother decided to cover her bases, make sure her winning was a certainty, even if one of us was taken out by the Gamemakers or made a stupid mistake.” 

“Wait,” Laura interrupted. “What do you mean, one of us? Who’s us?”

Carmilla looked grim. “The boy from District 4 is my brother.”

***

In the morning, at dawn, Orazio roused Laura and gave her a simple dress to wear, and then guided her to the roof. A breeze whipped her hair, tied in a loose ponytail, across her face, as she watched a hovercraft materialise out of thin air and a ladder descend from its belly. Apprehensively, she placed her hands and feet on the ladder and found herself frozen as the ladder ascended back into the hovercraft, taking Laura with it. A woman approached her, with a syringe in hand. She turned away as a tracking device was plunged deep into her skin. 

The same woman showed Laura to a room where a table was set with an array of breakfast foods. They looked as delicious as everything she had eaten that week, but the apprehension of the beginning of the Games had rather ruined her appetite. 

It was only when she sat down at the empty table did she realise she had missed her last opportunity to say goodbye to and thank Amanda and Tiffany. The last time she would ever see them in her life, and she had ignored them both and stomped off to her room like a toddler throwing a tantrum. She felt hollow inside with guilt. There was a horrible ache at the back of her throat, but no tears came. 

She really was grateful for the way they had both helped her. They did mean well. Even last night, Tiffany had given her advice to Carmilla for her to pass on to Laura. Apparently she was to avoid the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, and make her way to safety as soon as possible. If she found a weapon on her way out then great, she should grab it and keep running. Then, find water. And Carmilla. 

By now Amanda and Tiffany would already be at the Games Headquarters, signing up sponsors. Or, more specifically, Carmilla’s sponsors. Unlike Laura, who likely wouldn’t attract a punter unless they were betting on who would be first to bite the dust, Carmilla would be inundated with requests. 

The view of the Capitol soon disappeared from the windows that surrounded her and were replaced by sweeping plains and rolling hills. They were obviously speeding along, but the hovercraft was unlike any train or car she had ever travelled on, and the room felt as still as if she were back in the training center. 

Her food remained untouched in front of her when the windows suddenly went black, indicating they were nearing the arena. 

The air felt thin in her throat.

The hovercraft landed and a door in the floor opened to an porthole leading underground. 

She placed her feet on the rungs of the ladder and slowly descended into the cool tunnel, all too aware as she did that there was no turning back now. But there never had been. It was only now that she felt the walls closing in on her as she acknowledged how trapped she truly was.

She allowed herself a brief moment to close her eyes as she climbed down, then she jumped off the ladder at the bottom. They were in a labyrinth of tunnels, catacombs that lay beneath the area. Meaning at this moment, the place she was to spend her next few weeks fending of deadly attacks from fellow teenagers was right above them. 

She was taken to a small bathroom, where she instructed to shower. The room, like the hallways outside, was grey-blue steel. Laura stared at the showerhead above her as the water ran over body. She knew it was most likely the last shower she would ever have, the last time she would perform an action as ordinary as this. The knowledge registered only as a dull pain. After the tormenting cycle of the last few weeks, and with the death-filled weeks ahead of her, this moment felt meaningless. She could stand here for hours and feel nothing. She had already lost track of time - or rather, time had lost track of her. This moment, feet on cold tiles, streams of water running down her face in rivulets, lasted forever.

A sharp rap on the door shattered her reverie. A signal for her to hurry up.

After drying herself off, she wrapped the robe around her and was taken to another room where she met Orazio. He helped her pull on the clothes that every tribute would wear; dark brown cargo pants with handy pockets, a camouflage top, murky green jacket and boots. Orazio stayed silent throughout the process, and Laura imagined that for all his confident energy, he didn’t really know what to say to someone facing their imminent death. 

As for her, she was rather unsure how to act as someone who knew she was about to die.

Parts of her were torn between trying to accept the inevitability of her death and trying to hurriedly makes plans of action for once she was in the arena. She was supposed to run from the bloodbath. But how would she find Carmilla? Which was a priority - find Carmilla or get out of the bloodbath?

The thoughts only stirred up anxiety in her stomach, tingling in her fingers. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, nothing to do but wait. 

Long moments passed, during which she wished to be with her father, with Carmila, with LaF and Perry, anywhere, anywhere but here.

After an unknowable amount of time, a disembodied voice ordered her to take a place in the metal tube on the other side of the room. It was open to the room until she stepped inside and it sealed itself off. Orazio was nothing but a mute presence on the other side of the tube.

The countdown started. _Ten._ A murky panic swirled in the depths of her stomach.

 _Nine_. The back of her throat tasted metallic. _Eight._ The tips of her fingers tremored.

_Seven. Six. Five._

She thought about Carmilla, somewhere nearby in a tube of her own. Wondered if her stomach also felt like it was going to climb out her throat.

_Four. Three. Two._

It ate away at her, the fear, for Carmilla, for her friends, for her father; what would he do when she was gone? For herself as well. She was not ready to die.

_One._

In the time between the voice and the tube beginning to ascend, she imagined herself back in the forest, the smell of leaves wet from rain all around her, moss under her fingertips. Then she was back in the tube, climbing up towards the arena.

She was not ready to die. 

She was pushed into the outside air and for the first three seconds was surrounded by a dome of blinding, white light. She whipped her head from side to side, heart thudding in her ears, squinting her eyes, until her vision focused. On every side of her was realms of blue sky. Where was the Cornucopia? 

She looked down and found herself unable to breathe.

The small platform on which she stood was atop a tree the height of a five-story building. The tributes were in a huge circle, each of them precariously placed at the top of a tree. In the centre of the clearing, metres and metres below on the ground was the Cornucopia. It gleamed an insistent gold in the sun. Forming a ring around the trees and stretching as far as she could see was an enormous hedge, patterned into what looked like...a maze?

The voice of the legendary announcer, Richie Branson boomed around her. “Ladies and gentlemen, let the Thirty-third Hunger Games begin!”

The number 60 was beamed into the sky, and began to count down with every second. 

Swallowing down her apprehension, she looked around. The trees were spread too far apart to see everyone’s faces from where she stood, but Laura could make out Perry’s flaming red curls three tributes to her left. JP stood directly on her right, looking pale, and on her left was the young girl who kept crying, whose name she had learnt to be Sarah-Jane. She couldn’t find Carmilla, meaning she was probably standing on the far side of the circle. 

The timer hit 30. Thirty seconds before the Games started. Her body was flooded with fear, waves of it crashing over her and receding, then drowning her again. She realised with a detached consciousness that she was in the throes of serious panic. Her palms sweated, her ears thudded in time with her heart; she breathed in double-time. _In out in out in out._

Laura peered over the edge of the platform. The trunk of the tree had not a branch to speak of; only at the crown did it spindle into offshoots covered in deep green leaves, surrounding her platform. Knots in the wood of decent size were dotted along the trunk all the way down, and there was no mistaking their intended use. The tributes were to climb their way to the ground. 

The number 10 was flashing in the sky, when the beginnings of a plan started to knit themselves together in her mind. Laura felt intention forming, readying her muscles and narrowing her mindset. It was like the feeling of an axe in her hand; the comfortable knowledge that she knew how to do this, she was prepared. It was confidence, not of the arrogant kind, but the kind that was based on solid fact. Because Laura had learnt more than how to throw an axe from her years in the forest. She knew how to climb trees. 

She crouched, ready to swing herself over the edge to begin her descent as soon as the gong sounded. The memory of Tiffany’s warning to stay out the bloodbath played briefly on her mind. But Laura had been up and down trees all her life, and was a good climber. She would probably be able to make it to the ground before many of the others, maybe even first. The Games had never started like this before. It was as though the universe was telling her to disregard Tiffany’s instructions and run straight for the Cornucopia, where she could stock up on supplies before anyone caught her. Actually come to think of it, the universe probably wasn’t that specific. But it was certainly tempting her. 

She grabbed the edge of the platform, steadying herself. The plan in her mind - _get to the ground, get the stuff, run_ \- was steadying her inside. She was no longer in the realm of undiluted terror. She still felt sick to the stomach with fear, but she was also focused, concentrated. The fear was insisting she pay attention to it, but she ignored it. If she wasn’t going to go insane, she couldn’t let it control her.

With seven seconds left, Sarah-Jane fell out of her tree. 

Laura heard it before she saw it. A thick silence had hung over the tributes during the countdown; until it was suddenly pierced by Sarah-Jane’s wrenching scream. Her body fell, and the sound continued. She plummeted to the ground, all the way unleashing a sound of arcane despair and terror that wound its way through Laura’s bones. Then she hit the ground and the scream cut off with awful finality, and the sound of her body hitting the ground with a sickening crunch echoed through the clearing. Down below, the curled shape of the Cornucopia glimmered menacingly, and next to it lay Sarah-Jane’s broken body, limbs splayed at impossible angles. 

Laura looked at the body and at the same time saw Sarah-Jane in the beginning of her descent, when she was still close enough for Laura to see her gaping mouth and her eyes, slitted half-shut, her body a graceful arc as she succumbed to the pull of gravity. Only seconds ago, but already a memory. 

The gong sounded. Laura’s brain was numb with shock. It took several precious moments for her mind to pull itself into the present and make sense of the gong. To her right, JP was also standing stock-still and looking ominously green, but several of the others were already part way down their tree. 

_Go!_ screamed her brain. Thankfully, her legs obliged.

As every second passed, any advantage she held was slipping away. Swinging her legs over the platform, she felt for a foothold. She found something solid and followed with her other leg, so she was gripping onto the platform with only her hands. The movements came to her easily. Though her brain was still reeling, her body was scrambling down the trunk so fast her hands burned as raw skin on her palms was exposed. Only able to see the unchanging trunk of the tree, she had no idea where she was in relation to the Careers or other tributes. She didn’t yet know whether she would make it to the ground first in time to grab supplies or whether she would be making a run for it. Though her legs were burning and her breath scraped raw against her throat, this paled in significance against the prospect of meeting the Careers.

The ground leaped closer and closer as she scaled down the tree. When it lay only a few feet below her, she let go and dropped, landing in a crouch as she surveyed her surroundings. She couldn’t turn her head fast enough, engulfed in the fear of being attacked from behind. But she was in the clear; no one else had made it to the ground yet. 

She had precious little time, and it was slipping away as several tributes climbed down dangerously fast. Not enough time to see which tributes were closest. Not enough time to strategize. Not enough time to think; only time to act. She ran hard in the direction of the closest item; a metal drink bottle. Scooping it up, she continued in the direction of the Cornucopia. Along the way, she grabbed a small medical pack and a bag of oranges. The oranges were transferred to the crook of her arm, with the medical pack jammed between her body and upper arm. The drink bottle she clutched in her hand. By that time, several of the tributes had hit the ground and most were heading directly towards the Cornucopia. She wheeled around, almost stumbling in her haste to make it out of the danger area before anyone reached her. Partway through her departure, though, she spotted a few circular blades glinting in the grass and shoved them into an outer pocket on her pants. Not far past that was a bundle of rope, which she also collected, and she was just leaning down to scoop up a tarp when she was sent flying to the ground. 

Everything Laura was holding spilled from her arms as she landed on her front and rolled over just in time to dodge a punch. Her attacker, a boy, raised his fist for a second assault as Laura attempted to scramble to her feet, and this time he connected with her cheekbone. She had a fleeting view of the endless blue sky above her as her head snapped back. She thrust out both legs, trying to knock him over, but only managed to make him lose his balance for a second. Not long enough for her to get up before he regained it and surged forward, knee landing on her chest. She was reintroduced to the sky as she lay flat on her back, but this time her view was obstructed by the frenzied face of the boy as he pressed his hands on her neck, strangling her. 

She flailed desperately, fruitlessly trying to shove him off. His other knee was braced on the ground and his grip was strong, too strong. The force on her throat was crushing. Desperately, she flung her hands to the sides, fingers scrabbling in the grass for something to help, anything. They closed around a cool, metal cylinder. As her vision became disturbingly blurry, she swung up her arm blindly and heard the crack as it met the target. The pressure on her windpipe and her chest was suddenly, blissfully released. She sat up, gasping for breath, her head light and reeling. She looked down at her hand. It was the metal drink bottle that she had hit him with. 

She scrambled to her feet. The boy lay on the ground. At the point where the drink bottle had connected with his skull a thread of blood trickled down his forehead into his hairline. His chin was tipped towards the sky, mouth open, eyes slitted. Panic flooded Laura and she scrambled on her knees to the unmoving boy.

What had she done?

Her surroundings melted to a meaningless blur as she placed her hands on his chest and lowered her ear to his mouth. The ghost of a breath touched her ear and she almost cried with relief. His chest rose slightly under her clasped hands.

"Laura!"

Absorbed in a fog of panic, it took her a second to recognise her name. When she heard it again, she looked back over her shoulder in the direction of the voice.

Carmilla.

Maybe fifty meters away, between Laura and the enormous hedge, stood Carmilla, screaming at her.

"Laura! Let's go! _Run!_ "

As though the fog from her mind was siphoned away with Carmilla’s words, Laura suddenly became hyper-aware of the world around her. The Cornucopia was surrounded by tributes clashing in combat, swords against knives against spears. Bodies littered the ground. The trousers of tributes were splattered with blood. In the moment before she turned around she saw a boy, tearing across the plain, suddenly jolt and stagger to the ground mid-step. An arrow protruded from between his shoulder blades. Laura followed the line of the arrow’s path back to the culprit. Mel, from District 1, was already slotting another arrow into her bow, searching for a new target. 

As she turned to go, a Career from District 2 emerged from the Cornucopia, armed to the teeth. His eyes fell on Laura.

Then she was scooping up her fallen objects and running, as fast as she could. As she fled, the last image of the scene played in her mind. The boy, gesturing and shouting to the other Careers, pointing at Laura. She didn’t turn away to see what was happening. She kept her eyes locked on Carmilla, who was waiting and motioning frantically.

As she grew closer, her vision became blurry. This time, not because she was slowly losing consciousness as she was throttled, but because she was crying. She barrelled into Carmilla, who gripped her arms tightly and staggered back with her.

"You're okay." She wiped at Laura's eyes with her sleeve, all the while keeping them moving in the right direction. "We've got to go, now."

She moved one hand down to take hold of Laura's and tugged, and together they belted towards the wall of hedge.


	9. Chapter 9

The maze was colossal in height. Thick hedge walls towered over Laura and Carmilla as they fled from the bloodbath. She craned her neck upwards - only a slim rectangle of sky was visible, shining a benevolent blue. But between the thick walls, the path was dim and shadowy, weak light straining to reach them. 

They had dashed into the first opening they came across and found themselves on a long, grassy path, about two or three metres wide. 

Laura fell into step behind Carmilla, who took a frenzied and seemingly random path away from the Cornucopia. The pace was just fast enough to be uncomfortable, but the thought of the tributes that would soon be sure to follow them into the maze was motivation enough to keep Laura moving.

Within a short amount of time, Laura’s internal sense of direction was utterly befuddled. As well as that, her head was pounding with the aftermath of panic. Her legs ached to the bone - with every jolting step she felt as if they were about to collapse apart. Her lungs felt weak and ragged. Only then did Carmilla drop her hand and slow to a stop, giving them both a chance to catch their breath and rearrange everything they were carrying. The oranges were heaviest, so Carmilla slung those over her back and held the drink bottle in her free hand. Laura stashed the medical pack into another pocket of her pants and tucked the tarp and rope under her arms. 

It quickly became apparent that unless by some miracle they made it out of the maze, assuming there was even a way out, they were going to be very exposed. The grass covering the ground was short and scraggly; the path bare and only a few metres wide. There was nowhere to hide. 

They trekked for hours, alternating between jogging and walking, dogged by the haunting knowledge that unless they found a way out of the maze, they would be spending the first night unhidden and unprotected. And if Laura had learnt anything from previous Hunger Games, it was that the first night was the night for the stronger tributes to hunt down the weaker ones, before the latter managed to spread themselves out too far. 

When the sound of the first cannon punctuated the still air, they stopped again. They hadn’t spoken in hours. The faint light had receded throughout the day, clouding them in misty shadows. Carmilla’s face was gaunt in the dim light; the hollows under her eyes and in her cheeks were painted a murky black. They faced each other as the cannons marked a regular beat through the night. One for each dead tribute, slain in the bloodbath. After the first day, the cannons were fired immediately after a tribute died but the bloodbath was far too much of a frenzied and death-filled mess for the Gamemakers to keep track of the fatalities. The deaths were tallied up and fired all together once the bloodbath had ceased. 

Laura let her body sink into the wall of the hedge, branches enveloping her, counting the mounting number of cannon shots. Eleven. It wasn’t an unusually high amount of deaths on the first day, but it was still disarming. Eleven of the people she had shared the training hall with, the dining hall, the parade, were dead. Eleven bodies to be buried, eleven children to never see their families again. 

She couldn’t stop the persistent worry about LaFontaine and Perry, scratching at the back of her mind. With such an intricate, complicated arena, it would be unlikely they would come across them now they had gone their separate ways, even if they were trying to find each other. And that was assuming they were still alive. 

Her fingernails dug painfully into her palms as the thought ran through her head. She wouldn’t let herself consider it. And they would find out soon enough anyway, when night had fallen and the Gamemakers beamed the faces of the fallen tributes into the sky.

Carmilla started walking again, glancing back over her shoulder to check Laura was following her. After a second Laura pushed off the hedge wall and jogged to catch up, matching her long strides. 

“What happened to that boy?” Carmilla asked. “The one you hit.”

“He’s still alive, just knocked out,” Laura said. The same words had been repeating in Laura’s head since the bloodbath, an endless mantra. _He’s still alive. I heard him breathing, he’s still alive._

Carmilla grunted. “ _Was_ still alive anyway.”

“What do you mean? He was still breathing, I think he’ll be okay.”

Carmilla turned to look at Laura patronisingly. “He was left lying unconscious next to the Cornucopia where I’m guessing the Careers will still be. As soon as he sat up and they realised he wasn’t dead, they would’ve finished him off.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. A fresh wave of guilt flooded her body. 

Carmilla shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s not your fault. He was going to kill you if you didn’t conk him on the head with that drink bottle, it was lucky you had it.”

“I know but maybe I could’ve done more, I could have -”

“That boy’s fate was sealed from the moment his name was called as tribute,” Carmilla interrupted. “You very nearly died yourself by hanging back to check on him instead of running. You can’t save everyone.”

Laura rubbed her free hand across her temple. “I wish I could though.”

Carmilla glanced across, just once. “I know.” 

The sun soon disappeared behind a hedge wall. Shadows seeped out from beneath the thick brush. The exhaustion that had been steadily piling up over the last few hours began to outweigh the little adrenaline still trickling through her. It pulled at her shoulders, her feet, weighing her down. She yawned loudly, dragging her feet.

“We should rest,” Carmilla said immediately, coming to a halt. 

“I’m okay -” Laura tried to say, but her words were swallowed by another huge yawn. Carmilla arched one eyebrow. “Okay, maybe just for a little bit,” Laura conceded. “But where? We’re far too exposed here.”

She surveyed the area around them. The path they were on was quite wide and long. Behind them it faded into the darkness and in front of them, about fifty metres away, it made a sharp left. 

Carmilla dropped the oranges and drink bottle and plopped down onto the ground, stretching her legs out in front of her, resting her back against the wall. “Unless we can make it out of this maze, which I’m beginning to think is going to take a while, then we have no other option - we’ll be exposed wherever we go. We have to rest at some point, so we’ll just have to take shifts.”

“I guess,” Laura replied, unconvinced. She slid down the wall until she was resting next to Carmilla, who ripped open the bag of oranges. 

“Dinner is served.” Carmilla winked. “It’s fortunate the food you came across happened to be oranges - they’ll help hydrate us for a little while.”

“How do you know I didn’t get the oranges for that exact reason?”

Carmilla rolled her eyes as she tipped the empty drink bottle upside down in annoyance. “Because any fool could see you had nothing resembling a plan when you were running back and forth around the Cornucopia like a headless chook.”

Laura huffed.

“And while we’re on the subject of that,” Carmilla continued. “What _was_ your plan for that, exactly? I mean, I could be wrong, but I seem to remember passing on advice from Tiffany to stay _away_ from the bloodbath?” 

Laura glanced up, unsure if she should be offended, but the words had no heat behind them. Carmilla was absently-mindedly fiddling with the latch on the drink bottle. 

“I got carried away,” she said truthfully. “I was first to the ground. It seemed like a waste to leave all that stuff there.”

“You didn’t think arriving first gave you an excellent opportunity to get the hell out of there?” Carmilla said languidly. 

“No,” Laura said. “Besides, now we have all this stuff. Aren’t you glad?”

Carmilla considered, tossing the drink bottle up into the air and catching it again. Laura had seen her do the same action with a knife countless times before. “The stuff’s good,” Carmilla said finally. “And you’re not hurt. It could’ve turned pretty bad, but … I guess it didn’t. You’re okay.”

Before Laura could reply, Carmilla handed her one of the oranges and started counting out the rest, the conversation clearly over. 

She watched as Carmilla counted, the hopelessness of their current situation threatening to overwhelm her. They had no idea how to get out of the maze, had no water, their food would soon run out and there was no sign of either animals or plants they could eat. Underneath all that, a drudging guilt simmered in her stomach. Again and again, the image of the boy’s crumpled form, head tilted back and mouth tipped open, swam to the forefront of her mind. It clamoured to be paid attention, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. She wondered if he were dead by now, and if he was, how much she was to blame. On top of that, LaFontaine and Perry were nowhere to be found, which wasn’t helping her mood. 

Something cold was pressed into her hands and Laura looked down to find Carmilla’s locket sitting in her palm, the chain pooled around it. 

“You wanted to see what was inside right?” Carmilla leaned close, and whispered, “Cameras everywhere. Open it carefully.”

Laura knew Carmilla was trying to distract her from her guilt, and she was grateful for it. 

She cupped her hands around the locket and brought it close to her face, hopefully blocking any prying eyes of the Capitol. With her fingernail, she prised it open and the unresisting lid snapped back, revealing two faces inside. 

Neither was immediately identifiable. Two girls smiled at the camera. The smaller of the two’s face described such a perfect and uncompromising happiness it took Laura a moment to realise she was looking at a much younger Carmilla. After the first moment of recognition, the rest came easily - now Laura could see that of course it was her, the same slim eyebrows arching over narrow, dark eyes. The older of the two had the same dark eyes and hair but much darker skin, a stark contrast to Carmilla’s pearly white face. 

Laura felt Carmilla’s slow, even breath on the back of her neck. “That’s Mattie,” she whispered. Her voice was so quiet it was barely a murmur; the words were carried along on a breath. “We’ve always been close.”

Laura felt oddly melancholy as she looked at the two girls. They smiled so innocently up at her, blissfully unaware of the way their childhood would be stolen from them, as they were instead raised as soldiers for their mother’s revenge.

“The locket was Mattie’s token last year. She gave it to me for good luck. When she did, I told her I would bring it back safely. I promised I would return it to her.” An undercurrent of desperation thrummed through Carmilla’s hushed tones.

“By winning.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Carmilla answered it as though it was. 

“Maybe.” 

Before Laura could ask what she meant, the anthem of Panem suddenly blared through the air. She snapped the locket closed and handed it back to Carmilla as the seal of the Capitol floated into the sky, indicating the death recap would follow. They both sat in perfect stillness with bated breath as they stared upwards. The dead tributes were shown in district order, so if either LaFontaine or Perry had died, it was likely their picture would be the first shown. 

Laura gripped Carmilla’s arm, digging her fingers in so tightly it was probably painful, but she stayed silent.

The sky darkened for a second, and then it was emblazoned with the picture of the first dead tribute. A girl. District 4. 

All the air bottled up in Laura’s lungs came gushing out of her mouth in a _whoosh_ as her body relaxed in relief. 

“Oh thank God,” Carmilla muttered. She saw Laura’s sideways glance and huffed. “What? I don’t think I could stand it if you went into mourning, you're miserable enough as it is.” 

The picture disappeared from the sky and was replaced by a boy from District 6. It seemed that as well as LaF and Perry, all the Careers had made it through the first day except for the girl from District 4. All the tributes from District 8 and 9 followed, flashing up one after another - and then a familiar face from District 10. The boy who had tried so hard to strangle her to death stared down at Laura. Either he died from his injuries or Carmilla was right, and the Careers had finished him. Laura could not take her eyes off the ghost of his empty stare until the next tribute from District 11 took his place. Her tribute partner, as well as both tributes from District 12 followed. Thirteen tributes left to play. 

“I’ll take the first watch,” Carmilla offered, rising to her feet. 

“Okay,” Laura agreed. They gathered all the supplies that weren’t stuffed into pockets in the tarp. Carmilla sat against the hedge wall with her legs over the bundled tarp and Laura stretched out uncomfortably on the ground. She had been unaware of how many small stones and sticks were in the ground until now. Closing her eyes, she turned onto her side.

It was the most uncomfortable situation she had ever tried to sleep in.

The sticks and stones, jabbing into her skin, were just the start of it. Even without them, it would’ve been uncomfortable lying on the cold, hard ground. She grimly anticipated how stiff her body would be in the morning once she added a night’s sleep on the ground to the fatigue already in her muscles. Her breath was the loudest thing in the night, which was oddly disconcerting. She had nothing to cover her, exposed on all sides. Nothing apart from her own and Carmilla’s breathing broke the stiff silence. 

Not to mention, there were tributes roaming the maze at that very moment. Tributes who wanted to murder her. And she was lying on the ground with her eyes closed. The only thing between their bloodthirsty intent and her was Carmilla Karnstein. 

It was odd, because she hadn’t felt unsure about Carmilla taking the watch until she considered that she _should_ be feeling at least a little wary. After all, she was trusting another tribute with her life. She was handing them the perfect opportunity to easily dispatch an enemy. 

But Laura didn’t think Carmilla would kill her.

It had been an unclear amount of time since she had lay down. How many minutes of fretful contemplation had she spent? Ten? Twenty? She cracked open her eyes. So slightly her view was obscured by her own eyelashes.

Swathed in the thick shadows of the night, Carmilla still resided over the bundled tarp, arms draped over her knees, against the opposite wall of hedge. Her head was facing forwards, at the hedge across from her. Her eyes were watching Laura. 

There were a few seconds where Laura couldn’t tell if Carmilla could see that her eyes were open. “You’re meant to be keeping watch,” Laura mumbled. She thought Carmilla might have snorted in reply, but it was hard to be sure.

After that Laura drifted off, into fractured, restless sleep. She bobbed between sleep and wakefulness for an endless amount of time. When she dreamed, she relived memories, recent memories and older memories. It took her a moment to realise she was waking up and not entering a new memory when she opened her eyes to Carmilla shaking her. 

“It’s your shot,” she said in a low voice.

“How long has it been?” Laura sat up, the dredges of sleep draining away quite easily. 

“Our only possessions are a drink bottle and a couple of oranges. Which of those would you like me to check for the time?”

“Right.” 

They rearranged themselves, Laura taking Carmilla’s place with the tarp full of supplies, Carmilla stretching out luxuriously on the grass. She closed her eyes. Somehow her eyebrows still managed to look cynical and judgemental. 

“Aren’t you worried?” Laura couldn’t resist asking after a few minutes.

“What?” Carmilla grunted, apparently still awake.

“That I’m going to kill you while you sleep.”

Carmilla sighed and sat up, opening her eyes to level her gaze at Laura. 

“And why would you do that?”

“Anyone else would. You’re obviously stronger than me, so if I wanted to do something about that, this might be my only chance.”

Carmilla raised her eyebrow in amusement. “You’re right, anyone else would. And no, Laura, I’m not worried. Now I would appreciate it if you would kindly shut up and stop cutting into my beauty sleep.”

With that she rolled back over and faced the hedge.

“Goodnight,” she mumbled a moment later, and Laura grinned.

“Night Carm.”

The task of keeping watch soon became a tedious one, though the way Laura’s stomach kept rumbling was enough to easily keep her awake. She strongly considered eating one of the oranges, but wasn’t sure if Carmilla meant for them to be rationed. 

The maze was eerily silent. There was no rustling breeze, no insects buzzing or any of the usual sounds of the outdoors. Her own heartbeat sounded magnified in the emptiness, thudding in her chest at the constant threat of another tribute discovering them.

Every so often she tore her eyes from either end of the path to let them drift over Carmilla’s sleeping form. Their relationship was a strange one, and Laura herself couldn't quite figure it out. Were they acquaintances? They had only met barely a week ago, and yet their connection seemed too strong for that. So ‘friends’ then. But that didn’t fit either. Undeniably, there was something...else. More. But she refused to subject herself to the torture of dwelling on those kinds of thoughts. To add anything good to her life at this point would just be to add to the list of things she had to lose. And surely she was soon to lose it all. 

Dawn came quickly. Carmilla must have let her sleep for almost the entire night. Long fingers of early morning light were just beginning to creep up to Laura’s feet where she sat against the wall when she heard a noise. In the space of a millisecond, her muscles tensed, her mouth went dry and she felt sick with unease. It wasn’t loud or identifiable, but it had come from behind the wall she was sitting against, that much she was sure of. 

Anxiously, she dug her fingers into the ground.

When no noise broke the silence for another twenty seconds, she let herself consider the dubious possibility that her sleep-deprived, fretful and bored mind had imagined it. But that was only the hopeful side of her talking. The rest of her was very adamant that she had heard a noise, and if it was loud enough to be heard, the perpetrator was close enough to be dangerous. 

Then again. A scattering of sounds. Behind her, but moving, jumping around - first coming from her left side, then directly behind her, then receding. Then returning steadily. The shifting cadences formed themselves into voices. 

There were other tributes nearby. Laura knew that the silent maze magnified any noise and that the other tributes were probably quite far away. She also knew that she and Carmilla only had a bag of oranges to fend off attacks.

“Carm!” She hissed, scrambling over to her and shaking her shoulder lightly. “Wake up!”

Carmilla muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘no’ and curled more tightly in on herself. 

“Come _on_ , sleepy head, there’s people coming!”

This got Carmilla’s attention, and she sat up so fast they nearly clashed heads. 

“People?” Carmilla asked, brushing her mussed curls out of her eyes. 

Laura nodded frantically. “I heard voices. From that way.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. “Do you think it’ll be the Careers?” 

“No,” Carmilla said simply, sweeping up the tarp. She pushed herself to her feet, and Laura scrambled up as well. 

“Why not?” Laura asked anxiously, as she followed Carmilla down the path. “And how do you know we should be going this way?”

“I know it’s not the Careers because they’ll be hanging out at the Cornucopia and we’re going this way because I chose to.”

That was not reassuring. Laura couldn’t stop glancing over her shoulder, every time expecting the Careers to be charging up the path with weapons drawn. Nor could she stop digging her fingers into her arms or straining her ears for another sound. 

But there was no more voices, and eventually Laura relaxed her fingers and stopped looking back over her shoulder every four seconds.

The day quickly became a replica of the previous, but with less running and more complaining from Laura. Either Carmilla was not experiencing the same relentless pain in her legs as Laura, or she was internalising her grumbling. Knowing Carmilla, who was unlikely to keep it to herself when something bothered her, it was probably the former. This time Laura was shouldering the bag of oranges and they bumped persistently against her shoulder blades. By the time the sun had climbed to the top of the sky her legs were aching with renewed effort and she was ready to stop walking. The sun still couldn’t penetrate the miserable gloominess of the maze but her muscles were burning and the small of her back was uncomfortably sweaty. 

When they finally stopped, Laura dropped the bag of oranges to the ground without preamble and slumped against the hedge wall. Wordlessly, Carmilla picked them up and handed over the much lighter tarp. 

“Thanks,” Laura muttered. She leaned down, stretching out her calves, when she heard it again, the noise she had been dreading all morning. Voices, coming from somewhere in the maze, getting closer. They drove an icy spike of fear deep into Laura’s stomach. Though she knew it was inevitable, she desperately didn’t want to meet another tribute. Not now, when her legs were so tired. Not now, when they were entirely weaponless. She wasn’t afraid that Carmilla wouldn’t be able to handle other tributes. But she was afraid of having to watch her handle them.

“Let’s go,” she whispered to Carmilla.

Carmilla nodded in agreement. She stood still for a moment, turning her head, following the voices. Then she pointed wordlessly down the path and took off at a run in that direction. Laura followed her, settling into the familiar rhythm, tarp in her arms. 

Their footsteps pounded on the ground. She wanted to stop running and stay as silent as possible. She also wanted to run as far away as possible. Mostly she wanted this all to be a bad dream she could wake up from.

She needed to know where the other tributes were. She could no longer hear them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around, just being quieter than Laura and Carmilla were.

They were heading to a T-intersection of sorts. A dead end faced them, one path branching off to the left and one to the right. 

Carmilla veered sharply onto the right path. Laura dashed after her - then staggered to a halt when she found too many people on the new path. Before she could even recognise who the newcomers were, she barrelled into the back of Carmilla. 

Someone yelped in surprise and then suddenly, inexplicably, clouds of thick grey smoke blossomed into the air. She grabbed Carmilla’s shoulders in panic as masses of smoke obscured her vision. She couldn’t even see her hands on Carmilla’s shoulders.

Carmilla swore in a very annoyed manner. Laura felt her half-turn under her grip and clutch her wrist.

“What’s happening?” Laura asked. 

“Run, Per! Ouch! Not into me!” Yelled somebody else. 

“Which way are we going?!” A very distressed individual replied.

“ _What the frilly hell is going on?_ ” Carmilla demanded. 

“Ouch!” Laura gasped as someone charged into Carmilla, sending Laura staggering backwards under their combined weight.

“No Perry!” Someone shouted, someone who Laura now knew to be LaFontaine, which meant the person who had run into them was Perry, which meant they weren’t in danger and she wasn’t going to have to fight anyone off with her medical kit. 

“Carmilla, stop!” Laura cried. The smoke had thinned enough for her to see a blurry figure, probably Carmilla, holding another shapeless figure, probably Perry, in a headlock. “It’s okay, it’s LaFontaine and Perry! It’s alright!”

“What?” Carmilla exclaimed. The Perry shape was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. 

“Guys, it’s us, it’s Laura!” 

“Laura!” A LaFontaine-shaped figure emerged from the depths of the smoke. “Fancy meeting you here, huh!”

“Are you guys alright?” Laura asked, as LaFontaine approached. The smoke was clearing rapidly. Only thin threads trailing through the air remained.

“Never better,” LaFontaine replied, picking up a disgruntled but unharmed Perry off the ground. “Well, I suppose it could be better if we weren’t in the Hunger Games. How about you?”

“Fine. We’ve just been walking since the Games started, trying to get some distance from the other tributes.” Laura took in the two of them. Both were disheveled, but not injured. “At least now we know your smoke bomb works!”

“Although it probably works best if you use it to run _away_ from your enemies, not into them,” Carmilla deadpanned. “Honestly I’m surprised you amateurs survived this long.”

“You shouldn’t be,” said LaF. “This arena works perfectly into our game plan.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Carmilla asked. 

“To hide, stay out of sight and danger for as long as possible. And then they sent us into a literal maze! I couldn’t have planned it better myself.”

“You don’t think that carrying around a fluro yellow bag might be a slight flaw in that plan?” Carmilla pointed to the backpack on the ground that LaFontaine had dropped in all the commotion. It was indeed a shockingly bright yellow. “That thing is practically a beacon, you could probably see it from the moon.”

“It’s all we could find!” Perry piped up indignantly.

“We just took it off some boy that got stabbed,” LaFontaine added.

“Let’s just go,” Laura cut in, already anticipating how much she would have to play the diplomat between Carmilla and the other two. “We should keep walking.”

“Fine, but I'm not walking behind whoever's carrying the backpack,” Carmilla muttered. “I don’t want to go blind.”


	10. Chapter 10

Without prelude or warning, the sound of a cannon thundered through the air. They all automatically shuffled to a stop, surveying their surroundings warily. Though there hadn’t been any sign of other tributes since they’d resumed their trekking, the atmosphere suddenly became uncomfortable, all of them trying to stomach the notion that someone had just been killed. The anxiety that had been sitting at the base of Laura’s throat throughout the Games slid up a few notches. 

Carmilla was the first to set off again. The others followed suit, but the easy rhythm they had fallen into over the past hour had definitely been disrupted. Laura saw Perry glance over her shoulder compulsively several times, reminding Laura of herself the previous night, when they had heard the sounds of fellow tributes. Come to think of it, they had probably been hearing Laf and Perry, considering they had run into them not long after.

When before a comfortable silence had hung between the four of them, there was now the lingering question of who had just been killed for them all to consider. It had been a solitary cannon and no more had followed. Did that mean it was a one-on-one encounter? Or a group ganging up on an outsider?

The sky was beginning to darken. As it did, Laura’s wariness increased. They had all somewhat accepted that at this rate they wouldn’t be making it out of the maze any time soon. Which meant they would be spending another night unprotected and without shelter. At least this time, with their bigger group, they could take shorter shifts. In fact, Laura had no idea how she would stay awake if she was to be splitting shifts with Carmilla only. A thudding headache from lack of sleep accompanied every step and her muscles ached with fatigue. Her eyelids begged to be closed, if only for a second. 

Carmilla seemed to be in charge of dictating when to rest, a duty she had appointed herself to. Unfortunately, she was also easily the fittest of them all, and Laura didn’t want to be the one to complain, especially as LaFontaine and Perry, though flushed and sweaty, didn’t look like they were struggling to stay on their feet as Laura was. So although the soles of her feet burned, Laura gritted her teeth and refused to be the one to ask for a break. 

Though as it happened, she didn’t need to ask. They were weaving their way through identical walls of hedge, when a small, silver container suddenly punctuated the patch of sky above him. It was cylinder-shaped and suspended from a parachute, drifting lazily towards them. A sponsor gift. They had all spotted it within moments of its appearance - everything around them was still. It was the only moving thing they had seen for hours, apart from each other. 

As it floated above their heads, Carmilla leaped up, fingers stretched high and snagged it. They all crowded around as she cracked open the long tube and tipped it upside down. A bottle of clean, clear water slid into her palm. 

The four of them all made various noises of excitement and relief. Although the purpose of their walking had shifted from finding a way out of the maze to finding water, they had, until now, been woefully unsuccessful. Except this bottle of water had actually found them, meaning their hunt for water wasn’t over. They would be through the small bottle before long. But it was enough to motivate them, to keep them going. The knowledge that someone, somewhere, wanted them to press on, enough so that they had sent this gift to them. 

Or rather, they had sent the gift to Carmilla. The single bottle seemed intended for a single person. It certainly wasn’t enough to sustain a group for very long. And out of the four of them, there was no doubt who the public was betting on.

Whether she also suspected the gift was for her or not, Carmilla apparently had no intentions of keeping it too herself. After taking a small sip, she passed it to Laura, who offered it to LaFontaine after she took a drink, who gave it to Perry after also taking a sip. When it was passed back to Carmilla, one-third was gone, but she slipped it into her pocket without comment. 

“Well, that was nice,” Laura said. It was the first words between them for hours. 

“Glad someone’s on our side,” LaFontaine agreed. 

“We still have to find a source of water,” Perry reminded them. 

“Maybe there’s some nearby, and that’s why they only sent one bottle,” Carmilla suggested. “Just enough to keep us going.” LaFontaine and Perry agreed with this, looking heartened. 

Laura caught Carmilla’s eye, wondering if she really believed that, or if she too strongly suspected that the bottle had been meant only for Carmilla. The other girl’s face was unreadable, but she held Laura’s gaze for a moment before turning to face the others. “We should get going.”

Laura waited until all the others had fallen into line before following, trying to put off the moment as long as possible. A deep ache had settled across her back, slung across her shoulders, burning down her spine. Her mouth was dry and she was having trouble swallowing. The thudding at the base of her skull hadn’t faded; in fact, it was getting more persistent. Her brain kept conjuring up tantalising pictures of water. _Stop that_ , she told herself. They would find water soon. They had to. And until then, there was no use complaining. Especially since no one else looked anywhere near as exhausted as she did. She kept her eyes on the back of Perry’s neck as they walked; hair was pasted to the base of her neck with sweat and her ponytail bobbed amiably with her steps. Laura forced herself to watch the bouncing ringlets whenever her head threatened to drop to the ground. 

Luckily, before long the sky had darkened to a deep, sombre blue and they could no longer see further than the ten metres in front of them. Carmilla halted, bringing everyone else to a stop. Laura’s muscles wept for joy. She stretched out an arm, fingers scrabbling, grasping the hedge wall. It wasn’t enough for the world to stop swaying pensively or for her head to stop lurching ferociously.

“It’s probably time -” Carmilla started, but was abruptly cut off by the decisive noise of a cannon. They waited in apprehensive silence, but no other cannons followed. Again, it was just the one. And it was much too far away to be connected to the one they had heard earlier.

“It’s probably time to rest,” Carmilla said. 

“Alright,” LaFontaine agreed. “Are we going to take turns keeping watch?”

“We are if we don’t want to be brutally killed in our sleep,” Carmilla answered bluntly. 

After a brief moment of silence, Perry chimed in, “Well, who’s going to take first watch?”

“I will,” Carmilla replied. There was no room for argument in her statement. “We should eat first, though. The anthem will play soon.”

Everyone took another sip of the water, and oranges were passed around. When everyone had taken one, only four remained in the bag. They peeled them open in grim silence, all waiting for the anthem to play and to find out whose bodies had left the arena today. 

After the orange peels had been shoved under a hedge wall, the anthem suddenly blared through the arena. Perry jumped, despite the fact they had been anticipating it for more than five minutes. Two girl’s photos were projected into the sky, one after the other. If not for the small numbers in the corner of the pictures, she wouldn’t have known either’s District. 

No one spoke. It was easier not to talk about, to pretend they weren’t looking at the faces of girls who were, at this moment, being transported back to their Districts in wooden boxes, even though the photos themselves had been taken mere weeks ago. 

“So, guys,” LaFontaine suddenly spoke up. “I’ve got an idea. And I’m not saying that staying up keeping a watch isn’t a totally great idea, because it is. But in the situation that somebody _does_ come here, we need to be able to actually fight them off. And since, between the four of us, we’re entirely weaponless, we should probably take some precautions to make sure nobody does find us in the first place.”

“What do you suggest?” Carmilla asked. Laura supposed Carmilla taking LaFontaine’s suggestions seriously meant she was finally warming up to them. She remembered how she had been the one to urge Laura to pursue an alliance with LaFontaine and Perry. Although she had seemed flippant about it at the time, Laura didn’t think Carmilla would have done something like that unless she had really meant it. Maybe she did recognise LaFontaine’s potential.

“I’ve been meaning to show you guys this. Once we were out of the bloodbath we got a gift from a sponsor.” Laura glanced at Carmilla at this news. Maybe she had been wrong to think that Carmilla was the only one the public were betting on. Apparently, some sponsors were willing to take a gamble on LaFontaine - and Perry by association. Carmilla was leaning forward in interest, craning her neck to try and see in the bag. “We got some explosives and stuff. Including my smoke bomb that we used when we ran into you. Here, look.” LaFontaine pulled an array of dangerous-looking bomb-type things out of the offensively yellow bag. 

“Impressive,” Carmilla remarked, eyeing them carefully. “What are you going to do with those?”

“You’ll see.” LaFontaine grinned. 

They directed Laura and Perry to dig holes in key locations - Carmilla refused to participate in manual labour - and pull lines of wire taut between the two hedge walls. The wire, thin as a strand of hair, was suspended only a few inches above the ground, all the way across the path. Then LaFontaine did the actual burying of explosives, a job they trusted to no one else. The final result was one wire guarding them on either side of their camp, fifty metres away from where they would be sleeping. If anyone unfriendly was to come across them in the night, they would be dead before they could offer a threat. 

“Great work, team.” LaFontaine brushed their hands onto their pants. “Now, no one go to the toilet in the middle of the night, unless you want to be blown to smithereens.”

***

“Can’t sleep?” Carmilla asked. She was sitting with knees up, leaning on the hedge wall. Laura lay curled on the ground. They were mimicking their positions from the other night, only now LaFontaine and Perry’s sleeping forms were added to the picture. Laura had been lying awake, eyes on the smattering of stars above her, thoughts slow and lifeless. 

She turned her head slowly, cheek against the ground, looking at Carmilla. “No.” Her voice emerged from throat, clawing and scraping. She coughed and tried again. “I’m too thirsty.” 

Carmilla rummaged in the backpack and pulled out the water bottle. In the darkness of the night, the water gleamed invitingly. “Have the last of the water. It’s almost done anyway.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Not without the others. It’s not fair.”

Carmilla tossed the water bottle into the air. It flipped, end over end, water sloshing around. “Suit yourself. But it’s here if you need it.”

Laura lay on the grass, regretting her decision to pass on the water until another thought crossed her mind. “Carmilla, do you … do you think someone will get caught in the trap?”

“I don’t know,” Carmilla replied. She chewed on her thumb pensively. “It’s unlikely. No one’s found us yet. It’s more of a precaution.”

“Okay,” Laura sighed and pushed herself up onto her palms. “I might as well take your watch.”

Carmilla glanced across. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can’t sleep anyway.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” She tossed the bag to Laura and stretched out on the ground. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” Laura replied, settling the bag in her lap. It was going to be a long night; just her and the constant pain of her aching, dry throat for company. “Sleep well.”

“Night, Laura.”

***

A tremendous blast punctured the air, a roaring explosion that sent Laura rocketing from her sleep. She found herself sitting upright, arms sheltering her head with clumps of dirt showering against her skin before she’d even realised she was awake. Awake, and ears still ringing from the blast. She stared at her combat boots in front of her senselessly, at the dirt clinging to the undersides of her shoes and the scuffed sides. Dirt was still raining down on her. 

Her ears rang incessantly, a shrill, insistent tune in her head. Her arms trembled. Finally, she lowered them and looked up. Three white faces looked back, with identical expressions of shellshock. 

“The tripwire.” Perry spoke first, climbing to her feet unsteadily. She was on the opposite side of the path to the others. She must have been on watch. “Something triggered it.”

A single cannon fired. 

“Somebody,” Carmilla said darkly. Laura’s stomach threatened to unload its contents on the scraggly grass.

Carmilla walked off to investigate, expression grim, and LaFontaine followed close behind. After a few moments, Laura did the same, stomach still churning miserably. She kept her eyes on the thin grass on the ground, painted a blue-black colour in the dark early morning, as she approached the place where they had set the tripwire, where the explosion had come from. 

_We did this_.

Before she even saw a body, before she could even see proof that they had killed someone, the guilt started. A familiar shadow, settling in her stomach, climbing up her throat and whispering in her ear. She had been free from it from a few precious hours, finally able to forget the boy from the bloodbath. Now it slunk back once again. 

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a mangled hand. It wasn’t attached to a body.

Before she could think about it, she was spinning, clinging to the wall of hedge, retching. Nothing came up from her stomach; it was already painfully empty. She hadn’t had a proper meal in days, but that didn’t stop her stomach from repeatedly trying to turn itself inside out.

She heard the crunch of LaFontaine and Carmilla’s footsteps come to a stop. They had reached the site of the explosion. If they could face it, so could she.

She stood up and turned around. 

In the middle of miles of interrupted, identical hedge walls, there was a blackened patch, a small area where the grass and hedge had been scoured away, leaving burnt remains. And scattered around were pieces of a body. The mutilated remains of a person. The hand Laura had seen was the only thing that wasn’t destroyed beyond recognition. 

Carmilla and LaFontaine were stark, somber silhouettes. They were the only things in the landscape that didn’t look ruined, that didn’t look destroyed. Carmilla turned around, and her face was flushed from the cold air. She looked remarkably alive amidst the deadened landscape, shoulders heaving and fists shoved in pockets, with the smeared remains of a decimated body in the grass around her.

Deep-cutting misery clenched a fist around Laura’s throat. She blinked, turning away, shuffling back towards their little camp. The severed hand lay pathetically on the ground as she passed it. White, but for the heavy splatters of blood on it. Pointy knuckles were prominent. The fingertips were curled. 

Laura looked away.

***

Laura sat against the hedge as the others moved around her in their own private orbits, packing their few possessions into the backpack and preparing to continue on their fruitless quest to escape the maze and find food and water. Inside her, a wrenching guilt and sadness mingled painfully. 

“Time to go - woah.” LaF did a double-take when they took in Laura’s unseemly appearance, and leaned right into her face, frowning. “I mean this is the least offensive way possible, but sheesh, you look terrible.” 

“Thanks,” Laura muttered. Her throat was dry and her lips cracked, her lungs were on fire and the air in her windpipe seemed to catch every time she took a breath. She’d woken up with a terrible headache and felt sluggish, and her heart was pounding so hard it was as though it was trying to escape her chest. 

“Well, no time for moping around.” LaFontaine pushed themselves to their feet. “Gotta get back on the road.”

Laura’s insides curdled. She didn’t want to walk again. She wanted to sit as still as possible to make her head stop hurting. She wanted to dissect her guilt, rationalize it, convince herself that it wasn’t really her fault. She wanted to sit here miserably for as long as she pleased. She did not want to walk again. 

***

Laura couldn’t decide if her insides or her outsides hurt more. Once again, she was at the back of the line, behind Perry. Carmilla lead at the front. Perry and LaFontaine passed casual snippets of conversation back and forth. 

Laura’s train of thought kept slipping onto it’s side; she forgot the previous thought and while trying to remember it she lost the present thought. She tried to latch onto a future thought, but found her metaphysical hands were full, and she had to drop all her present thoughts on the ground to find a new one. She couldn’t stop losing herself in the foggy marshes of her own mind. If her brain had felt remotely connected to her body, she probably would’ve cried in frustration. As it was, her feet merely plodded on dutifully while riot raged in her fatigue-wraight brain. 

The hedges leaned over threateningly, leering at Laura. Clouds melted and reformed in the sky. 

It occurred to Laura that she was in fact having trouble remembering what she been doing in the last few seconds, and the seconds before that. The part of her that had studied Health at school was very troubled by this, and thought that Laura should tell one of the others. The rest of Laura was reluctant to open her mouth and squeeze words out of her throat.

Right at that moment the earth tipped on its axis and her grassy surroundings were replaced for one fleeting moment by a view of the brilliantly blue sky, and then there was nothing at all. 

***

“Hey, hey, hey! _Laura!_ ” 

She forced her eyes open to find Carmilla’s face upside down millimetres above her own, eyes wide and frantic. She vaguely registered a pressure under her armpits and realised Carmilla was holding her part-way off the ground. 

_What happened?_ Laura tried to ask, but it came out more like, “Ugghhhh.” 

“Can you hear me?” Carmilla asked, and Laura tipped her head back and forth in a clumsy imitation of a nod.

“You passed out for a second, sweetie,” Perry explained, both her and LaF peering over at Laura with concern. 

Carmilla lowered herself to the ground, taking Laura with her until she was slouched in Carmilla’s lap, leaning heavily against her without the strength to hold herself up. 

LaF touched the back of her fingers to Laura’s forehead. “She’s dehydrated.”

“I can see that,” Carmilla snapped tersely. “Pass me the rest of the oranges.” 

Perry handed them over and Carmilla peeled one quickly, biting her lip while she worked. She held a piece to Laura’s mouth. Laura’s water-starved brain noticed how wet the fruit felt against her lip. She opened her mouth and chewed the orange slowly. The movement of her jaw sent her head reeling. She had the odd feeling that she was weirdly disconnected from her body. 

“Why is she so dehydrated?” Perry asked, as Carmilla tossed them each their last remaining orange. “She’s had no less to drink than any of us.”

“We ran for a long time on the first day, she’s not used to it. I assumed we would have found food and water by now. We must have been going in circles, or we wouldn’t have bumped into you two.” Finding it too much effort to keep her eyes on the conversation, Laura instead watched Carmilla’s hands, clasped together with her arms tight around Laura’s waist. The skin on the end of her long, slim fingers were still bloody and raw. Fine scratches patterned the back of her pale hands, thin bones running down her hands and up the mounds of her knuckles. 

“Maybe a sponsor will send Laura some more water?” Perry suggested. “They would have seen us finish the bottle this morning.”

From the ground, Laura watched Carmilla’s hair swing as she shook her head. “Laura’s interview didn’t exactly go down well with the public, I doubt she’ll have a supporter rich enough to send a gift as expensive as water.” 

“But what about your sponsor from yesterday? Maybe they’ll send more.”

Carmilla swallowed. “They won’t. My … sponsor knows who they want to win. And it isn’t Laura.”

“But if they see you’re working together -” LaFontaine started.

“Trust me, their mind is made up.”

“But how do you know -”

“I JUST KNOW!” Carmilla exploded. “Okay? I just know. We need to find some water ourselves, right now, or Laura’s going to die.”

LaFontaine and Perry fell quiet, and Carmilla sighed, prising open Laura’s mouth again to feed her the last of the orange. Laura drew in rattling breaths, listening to them stumble down her throat as her eyes threatened to slid shut again. 

“Someone pass me the medical kit,” Carmilla muttered. She was studying Laura’s face intently. “She’s got a cut.”

“What did she cut herself on? There’s nothing here!” LaFontaine asked.

“She split her skin open on the ground, you imbecile!” Carmilla snapped. “ _Hand me the medical kit!_ ” 

“I don’t have it,” LaFontaine said. “Me and Perry never got one. You must have it.”

Carmilla exhaled through her nostrils with vehemence. She settled Laura to the ground. Laura listened to the sounds of Carmilla emptying out the bag and rummaging through the contents. Apparently finding nothing, she searched her pockets. Then Laura’s. A weight shifted along her leg as she pulled something out of Laura’s left pocket. There was a long silence, during which Laura wondered if she was opening the medical kit, and why it was taking so long.

“Laura,” she said finally. “What are these?”

“Ughh uhnnnn,” Laura replied, trying to convey that she had no idea what Carmilla was referring to and therefore could not answer her question.

“Where did you get those? I thought you had no weapons!” Perry exclaimed. 

“I have no idea where we got these,” Carmilla replied. “Perhaps you would like to enlighten us, Laura, since you were the one carrying them around in your pockets.”

Laura lifted her head with great effort. Carmilla was holding a handful of circular blades and had a disagreeable expression on her face. Laura looked closer at the blades, which she vaguely remembered picking up the Cornucopia. She came to the delayed conclusion that she had been carrying around the blades in her pockets for three days without realising. She wondered how she would explain this to Carmilla.

“Found those - Cornucopia,” Laura rasped. “For you. Forgot.”

“Are you telling me I was preparing myself to fight off heavily-weaponed Careers on the first night with a drink bottle and a bag of oranges because you _forgot_ you were carrying around _deadly weapons_ in your _pocket?_ We had to _dig holes_ in the dirt and make trip wires to protect ourselves when you had _blades_ in your _pocket?_ ”

“Laura, if you hadn’t already fainted, I would knock you out just for that,” LaFontaine added. 

“I’m sorry,” Laura said pathetically, dissolving into a round of coughing. Her head pounded in time.

“It’s alright,” Perry said sympathetically. “We’ve got them now.”

“That’s right,” LaFontaine said thoughtfully. “So maybe now we can look at this maze a different way.”

“What do you mean?” Perry asked. 

“Okay, hear me out. What if the reason we haven’t been able to find a way out yet is because there _is_ no exit?”

“The Gamemakers wouldn’t do that,” Carmilla said. “There has to be some section of arena outside the maze, or else everyone would die in here from starvation and dehydration. It would make for boring viewing for the public.”

LaFontaine appeared unperturbed. “I’m not saying there’s no more arena outside the walls. I’m just saying maybe there’s no _exit._ ”

“I’m not following.”

“Watch.” Grabbing a blade, LaFontaine stood up and inspected the closest wall. Laura couldn’t turn her head to follow their movements, but still managed to make out LaFontaine in her peripheral vision, slashing branches of the hedge apart erratically.

“Brilliant,” she heard Carmilla mutter, and LaFontaine grinned back over their shoulder for a moment. 

“See what I mean? One of these hedges has to be the outside wall. If we can just - oh. Maybe not then.”

“What?” Carmilla and Perry both asked when LaFontaine’s voice trailed off. 

Carmilla walked over to inspect the hedge wall. Whatever she saw made her swear loudly.

“Can you break through it?” Perry asked, out of Laura’s view. 

“How? By blowing it up? Every tribute in the arena would be able to hear us.”

Laura struggled into a sitting position and squinted at what the others were crowded around. In the middle of the hedge, LaFontaine had messily cut away the branches. Vines trailed to the ground despondently, revealing a thick brick wall. 

“Well that’s out of the question then,” LaF sighed. “There’s nothing else for it. We’ll just have to keep walking.” 

“No way,” Carmilla argued. “Laura can’t go anywhere like this.”

 _I’m fine_ , Laura tried to say, but nothing aside from harsh breathing escaped her throat. None of the others paid any attention to her. With unsteady arms she pushed herself to her feet and focused with all her might on taking a step. Unfortunately when she looked down she found she’d apparently sprouted an extra three legs, and all of them collapsed under her when she put her foot down. She staggered sideways and gave a yelp as her momentum carried her flying into the opposite wall. The hedge collapsed under her and she landed heavily on her butt, enveloped by branches. 

“Oh my God.” 

She didn’t know which one of them had spoken, but all three now stared at her as though she was doing something much more impressive than slowly sinking further into a hedge while moderately delusional. 

She didn’t even bother attempting to ask what had them looking so bewildered, as she was afraid of what her stomach might unleash if she opened her mouth. LaFontaine turned to look back over their shoulder at the solid wall they’d just uncovered, and then back at Laura who at that point had almost disappeared into the greenery. 

“Either you just fell straight through a brick wall -” they started.

“Or there is no wall there,” Carmilla finished. She reached down and hefted Laura to her feet, holding her steady as LaFontaine and Perry dropped to their knees and went to work on pulling apart the branches Laura had crushed. Laura looped her arms around Carmilla’s waist and gripped to her jacket tightly, trying to be as helpful as possible - which meant focusing on neither vomiting or passing out. 

“Laura, you’re a genius!” LaFontaine crowed. They both sat back to reveal what had been uncovered - the brick wall inside this hedge had a sizeable gap in it. In between the two slabs of brick was a large hole, wide enough for a person, disappearing far into the ground. 

“Let’s go,” Carmilla said immediately. 

“Are we sure it’s safe?” Perry said. “It looks rather...foreboding.”

“No food.” LaFontaine pointed at the path. “Maybe food.” They pointed at the hole. “It would be illogical not to.”

They slid their legs into the hollow, and hovered there looking up at Carmilla. “It doesn’t drop straight down, it curves slightly. Toss our supplies down after me.”

Carmilla nodded. LaFontaine let go and slid rapidly down into the gloomy pit. In a matter of milliseconds the crown of their head was out of sight. For a few moments, the three remaining waited in silence, until LaFontaine’s voice floated up to the surface from the depths of the hole. “It’s a tunnel!”


	11. Chapter 11

Through slitted eyes, Laura watched the curved, concrete tunnel wall march by. The white walls, flecked with grey, glowed eerily from an unidentifiable source. The tunnel was perfectly circular, meaning the floor was curved and difficult to walk on. Personally, Laura didn’t actually experience this as she was being carried on Carmilla’s back, piggyback style. LaFontaine and Perry, however, were frequently exclaiming as they lost their footing on the curved ground. A trickle of water ran down the center of the floor, at the very bottom of the tunnel. Just enough to tempt Laura but not enough to drink.

The tunnel didn’t deviate from its course; they plodded in a perfectly straight line for what felt like hours, though Laura knew her time perception would be skewed by her foggy mind. The only difference in direction was a slight decline, and the only sounds in the stifling tunnel were the endless slapping of their feet on the damp floor. 

Carmilla’s hand, tucked under Laura’s knee, held the blades with a tight grip. If they were to run into other tributes, the tight confined space left no doubt regarding the inevitability of a fight. 

But soon enough Laura sensed their path began to climb upwards; the other’s breathing became more laboured and Carmilla’s hands tightened under Laura’s legs. Finally streams of daylight filtered towards them, painting the path a warm, pale yellow. 

When a circle of overcast sky came into view and the tunnel veered sharply upwards, Carmilla lowered Laura to the ground and one at a time they all scrambled up the steep incline out into the open air. Cool, fresh air touched their skin. Laura breathed in deeply, letting it cleanse the inside of her head. She tipped her head back, eyes closed. The putrid atmosphere of the tunnel slowly drained away.

When she opened her eyes, she saw they had surfaced just outside the maze wall. The imposing wall towered just as high as ever, running away from them in a tight curve. On this side of the maze wall, the same scraggly grass remained, but no hedge walls intersected it. Miles and miles of grasslands swept along the landscape. Patches of plants dotted the landscape - tangled vines drooping with fruits; fields of mushroom sprouting from the ground. And before them, circling around the outside maze wall, a river gurgled along, cold, clear water galloping across the rocks. _Water_. 

Laura fell to her knees at the river’s edge, fingers curling into the damp dirt. She lowered her head to the rushing water and let it pour into her mouth, down her throat. She was out of breath, couldn’t spare any room in her mouth for air. Just water, streaming into her mouth and splashing over her face. When she finally lifted her head, her skin was soaked with it, running in rivulets down her neck into her shirt. The other joined her at the river’s edge, scooping up water and drinking it from their hands in a much more civilised manner than Laura. 

Carmilla stood first and surveyed their surroundings, dark hair whipping ferociously in the wind. “There’s a lot of food here. But no shelter. Anywhere we go, we’ll be in full view of anyone.”

“So, just like the maze,” LaFontaine said.

Carmilla looked down at them. “At least in the maze, people had to find you. And if you heard someone coming, you could lose them. Here it’s just so open. You can see everyone for miles.”

“Do you think anyone else is out here?” Perry said.

Carmilla chewed on her lip. “Maybe. They would’ve had to find the tunnel. They might have realised there’s brick walls within the hedge, but they might not know about the gaps. I mean, we found our tunnel by accident. Maybe no one else will be as lucky.” She sat back down and pulled out both drink bottles, the metal one from the Cornucopia and the plastic one from the sponsor, and started filling them in the river.

“We should start collecting some of this food.” Perry stood up and brushed off her hands in a rare display of decisiveness. 

“Yeah,” Carmilla agreed, climbing to her feet. “But Laura needs to rest.”

“Well, we can’t leave her here,” LaFontaine said, also standing up. 

“She can come with us, she just can’t help out,” Carmilla said. Laura simmered indignantly on the ground, annoyed at their discussing of her fate without her input, but much too tired to make a fuss out of it. The thought of any sort of walking around and bending over made her head swim rather unpleasantly. 

“Well, come on then,” Carmilla prompted, hand held out to Laura. Laura squinted up at her, at the edges of her hair shining gold in the midday sun. Laura took her outstretched hand and hauled herself to her feet.

LaFontaine and Perry headed in the direction of the fruit and Carmilla took Laura to the closest cluster of mushrooms. 

“Some of these are poisonous,” Carmilla frowned, her eyes sweeping across the field. “Stay here and I’ll pick us some.” 

Laura slumped down onto the thin grass and watched Carmilla traipsing through the field, filling her arms with mushrooms. She carefully examined each one before she plucked it from the ground. 

“Thanks,” Laura murmured, when Carmilla handed her a few and settled down next to her. She took a bite, chewing slowly to let her body get used to processing food again. The spongy texture wasn’t exactly flavoursome, but its familiar taste brought memories flooding back to her. “It’s like being back home isn’t it? Eating plain food like this again.”

Carmilla looked sideways at her with her mouth full of mushroom, her nose screwed up. 

“Right, I forgot,” Laura laughed. “You probably ate like a princess with your mother to provide for you.” 

“I certainly never had to resort to raw fungus,” Carmilla said, swallowing with what looked like great effort. “And to think it was only a few days ago we were feasting on cakes and hot chocolate.” 

“Oh, that hot chocolate!” Laura jumped in. “With those delicious little floating puff balls -”

“ - marshmallows.” 

“Marshmallows, yeah. I wish we had some of those now.”

“Well, if we happen across any mugs of hot chocolate out here, you could always add some of these lovely mushrooms to it. I’m sure they’d look just the same bobbing around in there.”

“Gross,” Laura giggled, and Carmilla grinned back at her. 

It was the first time she’d laughed since they’d been forced into the arena. Immediately, part of her was guilty, what with the children they’d traveled here with who had already died, and the ones who were soon to meet the same fate. But a larger part of her wanted to hold onto this little bead of happiness for as long as she could. The emotion was yet another thing stolen from her by the Gamemakers when they’d locked her in here, and she began to realise that she wanted to rectify that. She had accepted that she was going to die, and if these were going to be her last days alive, then she should at least allow herself to enjoy them rather than wallow in fear. 

She let herself relax into Carmilla's side. Carmilla glanced at her and after a moment slid her arm around her back, resting her hand on her shoulder.

They both watched LaF and Perry across the way, the two of them packing handful after handful of berries into the backpack. At one point LaFontaine went crawling under a shrub commando style, only to emerge seconds later yelping, scratches up and down their arm. 

“Aren’t the berries going to make a mess of the backpack?” Laura mused, as Perry appeared to scold LaF, something they paid no attention to, simply disappearing under another bush. 

“Probably, though the fact that we actually have food now is maybe more important than whether the inside of our backpack gets smudged.”

When they’d eaten their fill, Carmilla removed her jacket, and tied it together so it formed a kind of pouch. She stood up and collected more of the mushrooms until the jacket was overflowing, 

“I would say that this should suffice”, Carmilla smirked, approaching Laura once again, “But I’ve seen you eat, and I’m not confident this’ll last till dinner.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “I’m making up for lost years okay? Don’t judge.”

“Not judging,” Carmilla assured her, tossing her another from the pile. 

“Um, I’ve been meaning to say…” Laura started uncertainly. She fiddled with the mushroom in her hands, turning it over and over as she tried to organise her thoughts into words. “Thanks for helping me. Not just yesterday when I was, you know, about to die, but for the whole time we’ve been here. I mean I know you’re not doing it for me, it's to get back your mother or to prove a point or something but -”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Carmilla interrupted. She took a step closer. “Of course I’m doing it for you.”

At that moment a parachute, unnoticed by both of them, drifted between them. Distracted, they both watched as it settled softly on the ground. 

“Another gift already?” 

“One of us must have an ever so committed sponsor,” Carmilla said darkly. 

She knelt down and watched Laura untangle the parachute from the container. When she peeled off the lid, she found an impressive display of knives. They ranged in size from about the length of Laura’s hand to the length of her forearm. Each was a polished silver metal, handle and blade. And resting in the middle of the container was a small circular item with a dial on top. Carmilla picked it up and flicked the metal lid open, revealing a simple compass. 

A shadow crossed Carmilla’s face and she snapped it closed again. The lid gleamed in the harsh sunlight.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked. 

Carmilla sighed. “I better show the others,” She tucked the compass and the knives back into the container and slid it into her pants pocket. Getting to her feet, she slung their haul of mushrooms over her shoulder and offered her hand once more to Laura. “C’mon.” 

Laura let herself be pulled up, but even when she was on her feet Carmilla didn’t let her hand drop. Probably to keep Laura from falling on her face again or something. But Laura was beginning to feel almost back to herself now that her thirst had been quenched and the food she’d eaten had filled her tummy, and the more she came to her senses the more embarrassed she felt at how hopelessly dependent she’d been over the past day. 

“I can walk by myself now, you know,” Laura reminded her.

Carmilla glanced at her, the corners of her mouth pulling up into a smile. “I know.”

“Oh,” was all Laura could manage, a blush setting across her cheeks. Knowing that Carmilla liked holding her hand only made her already clammy palm even more sweaty, but Carmilla didn’t seem to mind. She chanced a squeeze of her hand to test Carmilla’s reaction, and Carmilla squeezed back almost immediately, the smile on her face now unmistakable. 

LaFontaine watched them approach with a knowing smirk on their face, but didn’t say anything. Most likely because Carmilla - yep, Laura checked to find her glaring at LaFontaine in warning. 

“We’ve had another sponsor delivery!” Laura announced as soon as they were within earshot, mostly to distract LaFontaine from any embarrassing cheeky comments they may be otherwise unable to resist. 

It worked, and the gifts were greeted with excitement by both LaFontaine and Perry once Carmilla handed over the container.

“A compass!” LaFontaine pulled it out and held it up to examine. “Would have been useful to have a few days ago, but better late than never.”

“I wouldn’t be so excited.” Carmilla worried her lower lip between her teeth, something Laura found unreasonably distracting considering the situation. “Don’t you understand what this means?”

“What what means?” LaFontaine asked, nonplussed. Laura had no idea why this particular gift had Carmilla so worked up either, and looked at her quizzically. 

“It means we have to go back into the maze.”

Everyone except Carmilla exchanged confused glances.

“We don’t _have_ to go back in the maze, just because some sponsor decided to send us a compass,” Perry reasoned. “Maybe they sent it in case we want to go back in. Or maybe they think we could use it out here.”

Carmilla opened her mouth, only to close it and look away. She breathed deeply and some of the tension in her muscles released, though the calmer expression on her face looked forced. “You’re right,” she agreed. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

***

Night had cast its shadowy cloak over the sky. The deserted plain around them remained eerily quiet. It seemed they were still the only tributes to venture through the tunnels and into the land outside the maze. It was easy to forget about the thousands of eyes trained on them from all across Panem, and imagine that these boundless plains, stretching towards the horizons, limitless, belonged only to them. If only for the time being.

“What are we going to do while we sleep?” Perry asked. “There’s nowhere to hide.” They sat in a circle, amidst the food plains. Behind them, the river murmured quietly, and behind that, the maze walls stood tall and imposing as ever. The others faces’ were gaunt and shadowed; they sat cross legged or with knees pulled up, sheltering from the harsh night wind.

“The same thing we did in the maze. Keep someone on watch,” Carmilla replied.

Perry pursed her lips unhappily. “They can still find us.”

“If you have a suggestion I’d love to hear it,” Carmilla said.

Perry huffed and opened and closed her mouth a few times, but was saved from the embarrassment of a non-answer by the seal of Panem lighting up the black sky, accompanied by the grandiose anthem. All four of them raised their heads to watch the unchanging seal, waiting, waiting, until it was replaced by a face.

JP Armitage looked back forlornly, the fine bones of his face jutting starkly from beneath his pale skin. 

His face was present throughout the entirety of the anthem. When the last strains of the anthem resided, his face blinked away. The only tribute to die today. It was him.

Laura looked away from the others, at the endless spread of plants in front of her. The remains of the body they had found in the early morning, scattered by LaFontaine’s bomb around the maze path, had belonged to JP. It was his blood painting the sides of the hedge wall. Back at the training hall, she had held a largely one-sided conversation with him and this morning she had trod in his intestinal matter. She had admired his uncanny memory and offered an alliance with him, and now she had orchestrated his death. 

There were no tears threatening, only a raw ache inside her. Regret carved a path down her throat, into her stomach. It mixed with her guilt, boiling into a poisonous mixture. 

She didn’t look to check, but she felt she could feel his blood burning on the soles of her boots. She could never be free of it; it would be on her hands always. Self-loathing fueled the raging fire in her, burning her from the inside out. Already the Games had turned her into a killer, albeit unwillingly. When had she let herself become so despicable? 

LaFontaine offered to take the first watch and the remaining three settled down in a lopsided triangle, with the motionless figure of LaFontaine as the apex.

Laura squeezed her eyes shut. The tune of the anthem played on an endless reel in her head, while JP’s face stared and stared at her, his eyes shadowed. _I’m sorry_ , Laura thought. _I never wanted you to die. I’m so sorry._

She opened her eyes and watched Carmilla’s face from across the space. Her eyes were fixed open and glassy, staring at a spidery tuft of grass in front of her face. She lifted her gaze and held Laura’s for two, three, four seconds. Then her eyelids slid shut, dark lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks. Laura watched her still face for a couple of minutes, then she shut her own eyes again. 

_I’m sorry._

The cool night breeze traced patterns along her bare skin. The grass tickled the side of her face that was pressed against the ground. She had never noticed before how strange it was, to lie on the grass and feel every point of contact with her body, the rough tendrils tickling the sides of her arms, her legs, mashed under her body. To be able to listen to air whistling up her nose, to feel the strands of hair matted against her cheek. To be inside such an intricate and efficient body. How strange it was to think that JP’s own body was no longer intact. How he could never feel the same thing as her; in fact, he would never feel anything again.

 _I’m so sorry._

***

“You need to see this,” Perry said breathlessly. “Everyone. It’s important.”

She shuffled around on the spot impatiently, waiting for everyone to join her. 

Laura lifted her cheek from the ground, eyes half-closed to the early morning light. “What is it?”

“Just come on,” she ordered sternly, struggling to hurry the other two up. She led them to the maze wall, to the tunnel opening that descended into the ground. 

Laura tucked her hands into her armpits, eyeing the shadowy pit. LaFontaine slowly circled around to the other side, and they stood in a dubious circle.

“Look inside. Do you see it? The water,” Perry said in hushed tones.

Laura leaned over. The concrete tunnel descended sharply, a grey-black colour in the darkness. The walls were slick and damp; the moonlight painted watery reflections on them. In the silence Laura could hear the rush of water receding - when she peered closer, she saw water pooling where the tunnel leveled out. The dark puddle was slowly disappearing out of sight, as if it was being drained away. 

“It’s going away,” LaFontaine noted unnecessarily.

“But what was it doing there?” Perry asked worriedly. She was a small, diminutive character in the early dawn; arms wrapped around her torso, ringlets framing her face in a fair halo. She scanned the other three faces, searching for the answer. 

Carmilla chewed at one of her fingernails. “Probably to stop people travelling through the tunnels at night. They must fill up during the night and then drain away in the morning.” She flicked her gaze up at the sky; the misty blue still stained by the white, thin crescent moon. “It will probably be completely gone soon.”

“But why?” LaFontaine pressed. “Why don’t they want us to use the tunnels at night? There must be another reason, some other thing we’re supposed to use the water for.”

“There’s no other reason. They don’t need any reason other than making this harder for us,” Carmilla replied shortly. She turned and strode back to their little camp, curls bobbing, grass flattening under her feet.

LaFontaine didn’t appear deterred; rather they looked fervorous with interest. “They wouldn’t have put it in if they didn’t want us to use it.” They insisted.

“But would could we use it for?” Laura asked uncertainly. “To drink? We already have the river.”

“No.” LaFontaine shook their head, speaking quickly. “The tunnels, as a means of travel - the water - well as long as it sticks to a schedule -”

“What are they talking about?” Laura directed this at Perry, exasperated.

Perry rolled her eyes. “Let LaFontaine sort it out. We’ll find out later.” She took Laura’s arm and led her back to the camp. They left LaFontaine in a deft crouch beside the tunnel opening, still muttering away. 

It wasn’t until mid-morning that LaFontaine brought up the tunnels again, when a third sponsor gift arrived. Like the last, there was no question of who it had been intended for, but this time it wasn’t Carmilla. 

After an unusual breakfast of berries and mushrooms, they had spread out amongst the plains of crops to replenish their supplies. This time Laura helped out as well, fairly confident she was fully recovered from her little dehydration-so-bad-she-nearly-died incident. She worked on harvesting a green-skinned fruit with her makeshift bag, fashioned out of her coat and slung over her arm, a blade clutched in her free hand. Carmilla had given them one each in the interests of self-protection, as they would be spreading out among the fields. Laura’s caught the light from time to time, reminding her of it’s presence and the possibility of a fight. 

Their working was interrupted by a shout from across the field - Laura glanced up to see LaFontaine, a lone figure in the middle of the mushroom plants. A tiny parachute wound it’s way towards them, until it fell into their open arms. Laura quickly picked her way across the fields to join them, as did Carmilla and Perry.

“Look!” LaFontaine held out the silver container that had arrived, attached to the parachute. It was wider than it was tall, a little smaller than a dinner plate and no more than a hand high. They had twisted the lid off and the four of them examined the collection of bottles nestled inside.

“How interesting,” Perry said dubiously.

“Oh, it is. It’s very interesting.” LaFontaine grinned.

“What are they?” Laura asked.

“All sorts. Serums, mostly. Some ointments.”

“What serums?” Carmilla asked with interest.

LaFontaine pulled out a slender bottle with a clear liquid inside. “Here’s the one I showed you, remember, in the Training Hall?”

Laura recognised the small bottle - the serum that would slow a person’s heartbeat to less than a beat a minute. A way to fake death, to trick other tributes. 

“The one that puts you in a coma?” Carmilla asked.

“Yeah,” LaFontaine answered eagerly. “The Gamemakers wouldn’t put it in, but I talked to my mentor about getting a sponsor to send it. Looks like it worked. And look at this.” They picked out another bottle - this one plastic, with a valve at the top. “Glue, but not the regular kind. It works on all sorts of materials; paper, plastic, wood. It can stick practically anything together.” They beamed at them. No one beamed back.

“So what?” Carmilla asked bluntly. 

“How do you know that?” Laura cut in, looking at the perfectly clear sides of the bottle. “About what it sticks to.”

“Because I invented it,” they replied, with a minor degree of smugness. “And it’s important because _this_ ,” they waved the unimpressive little bottle enthusiastically in their faces, “is how we are finally going to be able to sleep at night, without worrying about tributes happening upon our unguarded selves.”

“It is?” Laura asked. Her question was unanswered as, in classic LaFontaine fashion, they directed the others to gather their tarp, as well as a collection of leaves, bark and other plant items, without disclosing the details of their plan.

When Perry and Laura had brought their requested items to them, they performed a demonstration in which they glued a leaf to the corner of the tarp and then shook it energetically. “Doesn’t come off. We have to cover the tarp with leaves, grass and such. It’ll be camouflaged perfectly, and then we’ll sleep under it.”

“It’s good,” Carmilla admitted, after a moment of contemplative silence. “But wouldn’t anyone notice a giant … bulge …. in the ground?”

“We can find somewhere suitable for it. Against the hedge wall, maybe. The point is, in the dark, it won’t look unnatural. There’s much less chance of anyone bothering us than if we were just spread out on the ground, right in the open, like we have been.”

As they worked together to cover the tarp in an array of plant-type things, LaFontaine prattled on about yet another scheme they were planning, something about checking the times at which the tunnels filled and emptied of water. Laura listened only long enough to gather that this was no self-defence precaution, but rather an all out attack. At that point she excused herself and instead went to lay by the river, removing her shoes and letting her feet dangle in the cold water. 

She was finding it difficult to make good on her promise to enjoy these last few days. For some reason, knowing it was JP they’d killed, having a name and memories to put to the face, made the whole thing so much worse. Initially, she was angry with LaFontaine for thinking up the trip wires in the first place, and angry at Carmilla when she remembered their nighttime conversation, for giving her false comfort. _No one’s found us yet. It’s more of a precaution._

But she knew she wasn’t being fair on the others. Every tribute they killed meant another step closer to their own freedom. So the feelings cultivated into renewed feelings of guilt and anger at herself. 

“Hey.”

Carmilla stood over her, her hands grubby and a few stray leaves tangled in her hair. 

“Hey,” Laura muttered back. Apparently Carmilla took this as an invitation to join her, because she removed her shoes and mirrored her position, only to prop herself up on her elbow a second later, studying Laura.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Laura turned her head away slightly but didn’t answer. 

“Is it JP?” Carmilla prompted again. 

Still she didn’t say anything, but nodded her head slightly. 

“Laura.” 

She couldn’t help it; the concern in Carmilla’s voice turned her head almost involuntarily, and she found herself face to face with her. 

“Laura,” she said again, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, I just-”

“I meant what I said the other day. None of this is your fault. And his death wasn’t LaFontaine’s fault either. Any girl or boy that dies in this arena was murdered by the capitol.” 

Laura let out a heavy breath. Deep down, she knew Carmilla was right, but it was so hard not to feel responsible when she’d helped put into the ground the very explosives that had ended JP’s life. 

“How come it doesn’t bother you?” She asked.

From the corner of her eye she saw Carmilla frown. 

“It does bother me," she admitted. "Why do you think I wanted nothing to do with you when we first met? I thought the more distant I was with everyone, the easier it would be kill them when the time came.”

That...actually made a lot of sense. But it didn’t explain why Carmilla was lying here trying to comfort her, or why she’d risked her own neck several times to save Laura from certain death. Laura was one of the many tributes acting as a hurdle in Carmilla’s mother’s plan, just another one that would have have to be eliminated by Carmilla if she was to win this year’s Games. But before Laura could ask her about any of that, she continued, her voice low. 

“When I was younger, after I had learnt of the life Mother meant for me and I realised the purpose of my training, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I used to lie awake for as long as I could, because I knew that as soon as I slept, I’d be plagued by nightmares full of all the children I’d have to kill.” 

“Do you still get them?”

“The nightmares?” Carmilla shook her head. “Not as much. I suppose I just had so many years to get used to the idea.”

Laura propped herself up her arm so she could properly face Carmilla. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Carmilla laughed softly. “I believe you’ve already asked me several things. But go ahead.”

“Yesterday, you said that you were doing it for me. Saving me, I mean. That definitely goes against your distance policy. Not to mention this.” She indicated the closeness between them and Carmilla laughed again. The sound sent Laura trailing off and forgetting where her sentence was going, and Carmilla tilted her head slightly in amusement as she waited for her to gather her thoughts. 

“What exactly is the question here?”

Laura blushed. “Sorry. I just meant… well if you’re not doing it to spite your mother, then...why me?”

“Ah.” Now it was Carmilla’s turn to blush, something that Laura hadn’t known was actually possible. “That’s something I’ve been asking myself as well.”

“And?”

Carmilla hesitated, her eyes shifting to a point over Laura’s shoulder, and she brought her hand to her mouth, chewing on her nails, something Laura knew to be subconscious. Gently, Laura clasped her fingers around Carmilla’s wrist and tugged her hand away. 

Carmilla blinked at her in surprise, and then blurted out, “I always thought I was a monster.” 

Carmilla looked just as shocked as Laura felt at her admission. 

“I was always so good at all the fighting skills we were taught.” She continued quickly. “It was as though it came _naturally_ to me. Mother used to tell me -” Her voice cracked, and Laura tightened her grip on her arm. “- that I was her perfect student. That I was meant to kill.”

“That’s not true.” Laura argued immediately, and Carmilla smiled slightly. 

“I believed her for so long. That killing was all I was meant for. And then I met you and I felt...different.” Her eyes searched Laura’s, as though begging her to understand.

“Different how?” Laura whispered.

Carmilla squeezed her eyes shut for a second, and Laura waited patiently for her to speak again. When she shifted her hand slightly to tangle their fingers together, Carmilla seemed to find her voice again. “Softer. Warm.”

The words hit Laura right in the chest and tugged at her heart. In front of her Carmilla looked desperately vulnerable, and the fact that a grown adult who was meant to have Carmilla in her protection made her believe such terrible things made Laura’s blood boil. But that wasn’t the response Carmilla needed right now. 

“I don’t think you’re a monster Carm.”

“I know.” Carmilla breathed. Her free hand reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Laura’s ear, and then tugged her forward until she lay against her chest, Laura’s head tucked under her chin.

Laura closed her eyes and lay there, content not to move until the others called them for dinner, Carmilla’s finger trailing a pattern up and down her arm, until a question floated across her mind.

“Why were you so worried about the compass?” She asked suddenly, sitting up with her arms folded over Carmilla’s chest, looking curiously at her. “I know you weren’t telling LaFontaine the whole truth.”

Carmilla looked pained to be reminded of the topic, and once again dropped her voice to a whisper so their discussion couldn’t be picked up by the live broadcast. 

“My mother will have contacts with the Gamemakers...access to inside information. So she can know what they have planned for us, and avoid another disaster like Mattie with the avalanche last year.”

“And what does the compass have to do with that?”

“Well, we don’t have any use for it out here. Like LaFontaine said, it would’ve only been useful-”

“- Back in the maze.” Laura interjected.

“Right,” Carmilla nodded. “So as lovely as it is out here alone with endless amounts of food and water, I’m guessing this little gift means the Gamemakers have a plan to send us right back into the maze.”


	12. Chapter 12

That night, the four of them gathered at the tunnel opening and listened to the sound of water splattering on the concrete floor, until it gradually changed to the sound of water hitting water as the tunnel steadily filled up. LaFontaine had flipped open the compass when the first drops of water had echoed through the tunnel, glancing up at what was left of the disappearing sun. Slowly, the the water came into sight through the tunnel opening, creeping towards them. When it had filled to the brim of the tunnel, they returned to their little camp. They had stretched the tarp from the top of the hedge to the ground, creating a small, sheltered tent for them to sleep in. 

When the sun rose the next day, it brought ferociously hot winds and a feverity to the atmosphere. The air close to the ground shimmered in the burning heat the same way LaFontaine shivered with feverish excitement.

When they shared around the remaining berries at breakfast LaFontaine decided it was finally time to fill the rest of them in on their scheming. 

“I’ve been working on a plan.”

“Oh yes?” Laura asked apprehensively.

“Yeah.” LaFontaine’s eyes glittered. “It has to do with the tunnel.” Somehow Laura had known this before they said it - their excitement at hearing the tunnel filled up at night; their intense interest in it this morning. “Sooner or later, some other tributes will discover it, and when they do, we’re going to use it to our advantage. And if we can make sure the Careers are the ones who find it … then, all the better.”

“How do we _make sure_ they find it? Won’t they be hanging around the Cornucopia?” Perry asked.

“They won’t want to leave there,” Carmilla agreed. 

“Yes well, this is the part I don’t think you’re going to like.”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Won’t I?”

“We’re going to lure them away from the Cornucopia,” LaFontaine explained. “Have them chase some sort of bait.”

Carmilla narrowed her eyes. “And what do you plan on using for bait in this case?”

LaFontaine flicked their eyes to Laura and dread trickled down her spine. “That would be you two.”

“Hold up,” Laura cut in. “Let’s just take a step back. Why do we want them to find the tunnel? Won’t that lead them straight to us?”

LaFontaine opened their yellow backpack and pulled out a collection of wires and small electrical boxes. “Well, that’s the interesting part.”

***

Laura held her knife in her hand, the one Carmilla had given her the previous day, running her finger over the sleek, metal handle slowly. “Carmilla, do you want to take this back? I don’t need it.”

Carmilla looked over. They both stood knee high in thick, stout vines holding red berries, collecting last-minute supplies supplies to take with them. “Yes, you do. How are you going to protect yourself if you’re caught on your own?” She stripped a plant of its fruit as she spoke.

“Why would I be on my own?” Laura asked.

“You never know what might happen. We could get caught in a fight at any moment. You need to be able to defend yourself.”

Laura looked down at the knife. It glimmered maliciously, the rising sun making it glare blindingly. She pocketed it unhappily, somehow still feeling that if she didn’t have a knife she wouldn’t have to fight, but knowing that wasn’t true. She might still have to fight even if she didn’t have a knife; she just would be much more likely to lose.

“Come on,” Carmilla said, more gently. She tilted her head back and squinted at the sun. It hovered close to the horizon - it was still early morning. “That’s enough food. We need to start moving if we’re going to make it back to the Cornucopia by nightfall.”

Laura waded through the crops with her, back to LaF and Perry. They were on the ground near the river, already starting to sort out materials to create another shelter. Laura and Carmilla would be taking the camouflaged tarp with them when they went back into the maze to lure the Careers into their trap. LaFontaine and Perry would stay here, setting up the actual trap in the tunnel while Laura and Carmilla acted as bait. The four wouldn’t reunite until they had carried out their plan. Laura yearned to stay, to not split up their little group. She craved the comfort of strength in numbers; the bond they had formed, in which she knew they would all readily protect each other if need came to be.

“They’ll be fine,” Carmilla reassured her, squinting at Laura against the sun’s glare.

“She’s right,” LaFontaine agreed as they reached them. “We’ll just build our shelter and set up the stuff while you’re gone. Nothing dangerous. Besides, we have these.” They flicked their knife out from their sleeve and spun it sloppily on their hand. It tumbled to the ground. This amateur display did not reassure Laura of their ability to protect themselves, but she knew it didn’t matter. Like Carmilla said, they had to go.

“Be safe,” she said.

“You too,” LaFontaine returned. “And remember - the tunnel fills up at _exactly_ eight o’clock.”

“We’ve got it,” Carmilla stated. “You just worry about _your_ part of the plan.”

“Don’t worry. It’s under control.” They patted the backpack at their feet.

“See you soon,” Perry said with certainty. Whether it was naivety or an effort to reassure the others, Laura couldn’t tell. 

Laura set off with Carmilla, approaching the foreboding maze wall. Her insides curled up more with each step. She hadn’t realised until now just how much she didn’t want to go into the maze, with it’s twisting pathways and shadowy crevices, the deceiving darkness and the stealthy mist.

Standing at the entrance to the tunnel, she looked back for one more glimpse of LaF and Perry, now only small figures amidst the plains. She saw a hand lifted in farewell and held her own in the air in response. Then Carmilla lowered herself into the tunnel; a short _swish_ and she was gone. Laura sat on the edge of the tunnel, shifted so only her hands held her above ground. Then she let go and the tunnel walls enclosed her once more.

***

When they surfaced again, the maze was gloomy as ever. Carmilla scanned the path to either side, knife in one hand, compass in the other. Laura pulled out two things from her pockets - a small explosive and a reel of wire, with specific instructions on how to set them up from LaFontaine in her head. 

“I wish they were doing this,” Laura said anxiously. “What if we mess it up?’

“They have other stuff to do, like making another shelter since we took the tarp. And actually setting up the trap for the Careers.”

“Yeah, I know,” Laura sighed. “Alright, help me set this thing up.”

Together they dug a shallow indent in the ground for the explosive, right next to the tunnel entrance. The idea was for the explosion to completely expose the tunnel entrance, so it could be easily spotted. Next, they connected a wire to the explosive and trailed it along the hedge wall until it was a fair distance from the explosive, then they strung it across the path. It would work the same as the tripwires they had used the other day, only they were going to trigger this one themselves, which was why the wire was so far away from the explosive. 

“So do you think it works?” Laura asked, surveying their handiwork.

“It’s not like we can test it,” Carmilla answered. “We better hope so.”

*** 

Laura was reluctantly reintroduced to the pain of walking for prolonged periods of time. It was as if somehow she had been caught in a time loop and was back to the first few days of the Games, when they’d walked in circles for miles but never got anywhere.

This time, though, there was a destination in mind and Carmilla guided them with her compass, following the arrow that pointed north. 

The silence stifled Laura. She hated the eerie stillness of the maze; it crept under her skin and made her jump at every noise. Ears pricked, she checked constantly over her shoulder. They hadn’t heard a cannon in ages - not since the morning they had been woken by JP triggering the trip wire.

“How many tributes are left?” She asked suddenly.

Carmilla looked surprised by the question. She bit her thumbnail thoughtfully. “Eleven died on the first day. Two girls on the second day. Then JP. That makes fourteen.”

“So ten left,” Laura counted. “Us four, the four Careers, and then who?”

“Will, for one,” Carmilla answered darkly, and Laura’s heart sunk. Of course, she’d forgotten all about Carmilla’s brother. Evidently, he’d stuck by his refusal to join the careers and gone solo. She wondered where he was, and how he planned to take out the careers. Each was formidable enough on their own, let alone in a four against one situation. “And then I’m pretty sure the last tribute is a girl from 10.”

She had only a faint memory of the girl from 10. She’d seen her introduced at the interviews, but was so nervous at that point that she hadn’t taken much in. Elise maybe? Or was it Elsie? She didn’t bother trying to recall anything further; far too preoccupied with the sobering reminder that the tribute with the strongest training score was yet to be sighted. 

“Were you close to him?” She asked.

Carmilla scoffed. “Never. He was always someone I made a point to avoid when we were reunited each year. While I always despised the role Mother pushed us into, Will seemed to revel in it. Always such a mama’s boy.” 

“He sounds scary.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, his head’s big enough already.” Carmilla glanced over, her elbow knocking against Laura’s as they walked closely together. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Nope. Just me and my dad.” Laura shrugged. “It’s probably a good thing actually. Less people to disappoint. No family to leave behind. Although sometimes now I do wish I’d had a brother or sister. For my dad, you know. So he’s not all alone.”

Carmilla shook her head slightly, an unreadable expression on her face. 

“What?” Laura asked. When Carmilla still didn’t speak, she knocked her hip against hers playfully, a gesture she quickly regretted when Carmilla returned the hip check with twice as much force and sent her stumbling sideways. She stopped and put her hands on her hips, while Carmilla grinned at her. “Are you laughing at me, Carmilla Karnstein?”

“Please.” Carmilla placed her hand over her heart in mock offense as her smile grew. “I wouldn’t dream of it. 

Laura huffed. “I don’t get you sometimes.” 

Carmilla waited for Laura to catch up and then took her hand, her eyes twinkling as they walked. “And I don’t get you, Laura Hollis. Not in the slightest.” 

***

Carmilla clicked open the compass. The needle quivered, then spun flippantly, pointing at the solid wall of hedge to their right. 

“That way,” she murmured. “We just have to keep going that way until a path opens up.”

They crept forward, their nearness to their goal almost tangible. Up ahead, a break in the wall appeared. When they drew level with it, they peered down a long path. At the end of it was the open field in the centre of the maze. From here, she could even see the distant circle of trees that they’d climbed down on their very first day. 

The two stared, mesmerised for a second, then stepped back out of sight. 

“Well that’s step one complete.” Carmilla tapped the rolled tarp under her arm. “Let’s have something to eat and set this up.”

The food they’d brought with them wasn’t much; smaller mushrooms and fruits stuffed into various pockets. Now they’d actually stopped moving, Laura realised she was ravenous, and scooped up berries with enthusiasm, knowing they had another full day of walking ahead of them.

“It feels weird to be sleeping so close to them,” Laura admitted, as Carmilla passed her the bottle of water. “After avoiding them for so long.”

“We’re sure not avoiding them anymore,” Carmilla agreed. She tossed a berry at Laura and grinned when it bounced off her forehead. “We should try and get some sleep.” 

After cleaning up the remains of their dinner, they set up up the tarp, lying as close to the hedge as possible and draping it over the both of them. In the darkness it would appear to be nothing more than a small bush extending from the wall. 

The absolute blackness was a bit unnerving after sleeping under the stars every night, and Laura shivered every time Carmilla shifted, unable to see anything at all. 

“You know,” she started from where she lay pressed against the hedge, “it would probably be best if we slept closer. You know, to make ourselves smaller.”

She heard Carmilla snicker, and could just imagine the smirk on her face right then.

“Like this?”

The tarp rustled as Carmilla sat up, and a moment later felt her press against her. When the other girl’s arm snaked over her waist to intertwine her fingers in her own, her heart skittered, just a little.

***

“Are you ready?” Carmilla asked the next morning. In her hand was a small, black capsule, another of LaFontaine’s inventions that had been delivered along with the explosives and electrical parts. It was sleek and smooth on top, but the underside writhed with intricate wires. A small ring was nestled among them. When it was pulled, there would be a few seconds before it would emit a staggeringly loud noise and a lot of smoke, or so LaFontaine had told them. Loud enough to create a diversion - or to attract the attention of all the tributes in the vicinity, including the Careers. Which was exactly what they wanted.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Laura replied, mustering up the shreds of her confidence. They stood in the middle of the path that led to the central clearing - one end opened up to the open space with the circle of trees. The other end led back into the winding maze. Carmilla glanced both ways before slipping her finger into the silver ring on the underside, ready to pull it off. 

“Maybe you should cover your ears,” Carmilla suggested. 

“I can’t cover my ears and run at the same time,” Laura argued.

Carmilla blew a frustrated breath out. “Then stand back a little.”

Laura obediently retreated up the path, back towards the maze.

“Well, here goes.” Grimacing, Carmilla pulled the silver ring out sharply. It issued a loud _tick_. Carmilla pulled her hand back, preparing to throw. Another loud tick echoed through the empty path. The capsule sailed from Carmilla’s hand, cutting a path through the air until it landed almost in the entrance of the maze. One more tick, and then it exploded. 

True to LaFontaine’s description, it was deafening. Even from her vantage point far down the path, Laura was hit with a wall of sound, the force of it barrelling into her. It was followed by pillars of smoke shooting upwards, filling the sky with dark clouds.

Laura turned and bolted up the path, putting as much distance between herself and the maze entrance as she could. Footsteps slamming into the ground, she dared a look over her shoulder and saw Carmilla’s figure, a shadowy silhouette engulfed in the fog, making her way further into the clearing. 

They were walking a very thin tightrope, but it was necessary if the plan was to work. They had to stay at the scene of the disturbance just long enough for the Careers to see Carmilla, but not long enough to let their chances of escape disappear. In their precarious plan to lead the Careers on a treasure hunt through the maze, the Careers were the hunters and Carmilla was the treasure. 

Their plan relied on the hope that Danny would stop at nothing to see Carmilla dead, which was why they couldn’t leave, not until the Careers realised Carmilla was behind the disturbance. 

Laura reached the adjoining path. She turned around, heart in mouth, and waited. She could no longer see through the thick smoke choking the pathway before her. Four seconds, five seconds passed and no sign of Carmilla. No sign of anything. Seven seconds, eight seconds. Not even a sound reached Laura. Ten seconds, eleven seconds. 

Finally a shape materialised in the smog, moving steadily closer until Carmilla burst from the haze, running hard. 

“Go, Laura,” she said quickly, grabbing her wrist and yanking her along as she reached her. “They’ve seen me, come on.”

As they tore away, Laura thought she heard the remnants of voices, chorusing from the path they’d just left, Danny’s shrill cadences among them. Her blood melted into icy fear, streaming through her veins and roaring in her ears. Next to her, Carmilla flicked the compass open; the needle swung wildly. 

“That way!” She gasped urgently, slamming into Laura and sending her down a perpendicular path. Ragged breaths tore from Laura’s lungs. Every time her foot struck the ground she worried her legs would fall apart at the joints. 

“Not much longer,” Carmilla got out, between heaving breaths. “Just a bit more.”

Their pace slowly decreased, from frantic to steady. Then from steady to straggling.

“Stop.” Carmilla placed a hand on Laura’s arm, drawing her to a halt. “I think … it think it’s safe to stop.”

Laura placed bracing hands on her thighs and leaned over, drawing long, wheezing breaths.

“So they definitely saw you?” She finally panted.

“Yeah. I was standing in the entrance and I saw them grabbing weapons, then they came running towards us. I didn’t know if they could see me or not, but then Danny shouted something. Probably a war-cry or something.” She rolled her eyes.

Laura breathed out slowly, relieved. LaFontaine and Perry had been skeptical that Danny would be prepared to follow a series of explosions through the maze just for the chance to kill Carmilla when much weaker tributes still remained. But Laura, after seeing the encounter between the two girls in the Training Hall, hadn’t been skeptical at all. In fact, she thought Danny would have been prepared to do a lot more.

She could only hope that her hunch was correct. They had one more capsule to detonate, to draw the Careers further into the maze. That would then leave only the bomb they had rigged outside the tunnel entrance. As long as the Careers were still following the trail, that would lead them straight into the tunnel. Once they were in there, LaFontaine would take care of them. Laura swallowed down a lump of revulsion. She couldn’t think about the implications of what they were doing, just had to remember it was necessary, one step closer to survival. 

“Okay.” Laura bit her lip. “Okay. So once we set off this next one, we have to get to the tunnel entrance _right away_. The Careers could already be near us. And then we have to set off the explosion. But not too early, or the Careers will make it through before the tunnel begins to fill up.”

“I know the plan, cupcake,” Carmilla murmured, studying the compass. 

“Good. That’s good,” Laura said distractedly. She was still running over the details in her mind. Once they set off the bomb, they had to get through the tunnel and back to safety before eight o’clock, the time at when the tunnel would fill with water. But it was absolutely critical that the Careers didn’t also make it through to the other side before eight o’clock, which gave them a very fragile window of time to set off the bomb. If they set off the bomb too late and didn’t make it through, they would be dead. If they set it off too early and gave the Careers enough time to make it through, they would have four very angry and very alive Careers on their hands and still probably end up dead. With perfect timing and a bit of luck, the Careers would still be in the tunnel when it began to fill, at which point the trap LaFontaine was currently setting up along the tunnel floor would see them immediately electrocuted the moment they came into contact with the water. 

The maze was utterly silent. There was no way of knowing where the Careers were.

Carmilla glanced down at the compass; the needle resided on the ornate N. Carmilla looked the opposite way, south, the direction towards the tunnel and the edge of the maze. “This way.”

They hiked for a few skittish hours, unable to shake off the shadow of the Careers. Carmilla held her knife with the butt of the handle resting in her palm and the blade resting against her forearm. Laura touched her own knife in her pocket, but couldn’t bring herself to pull it out. Her hands felt vulnerably empty. 

When they stopped, they stood at an intersection. The path they were on was bisected by another, one that lead south. 

“I think it’s time,” Carmilla said.

“What if they can’t find this place?” Laura asked.

“What if they can’t? What if they can’t be bothered? What if they don’t care enough about us to find us? We think of a new plan. All we can do is make sure this does work.”

“Okay,” Laura said quietly. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Carmilla said, and she pulled the ring and dropped the black shell to the ground. The first tick cut through the air but Laura and Carmilla were already sprinting down the path. When three ticks had passed and the resulting explosion of noise split through the air, they were far enough away that it didn’t hurt, but Laura covered her ears instinctively, anyway. 

At every corner, Carmilla placed a careful hand on Laura’s arm while clenching her knife tighter in the other, until they found the path clear.

“Keep your eyes open,” she muttered. “They could be anywhere.”

They rounded a corner and Laura screeched to a halt, yanking Carmilla’s arm to hold her back. 

“What?” Carmilla asked. Her eyes skipped around the area frantically, meeting Laura’s for only the briefest of seconds before sweeping the area around and behind them, watching for any foreign movement. 

“Look,” Laura hissed. Directly in front of them, a ditch was burned into the ground, and scorch marks covered the earth and surrounding grass. “This is where the first bomb went off. Where JP…”

“Shit, you’re right.” Carmilla squatted down and ran her thumb through the blackened dirt. She examined it for a second and then looked back up at Laura. “Can you remember where you set up the second trip wire?”

Laura strained her memory. She could certainly recall stringing the wire between hedge walls, but this whole stretch of maze was identical and she couldn’t be sure how far from the first trap they had set the second. 

She shook her head. “Not really. There might be raised sections of grass from where we dug them up, but it’s getting dark and—”

“And if we trigger it accidently we’re going to blow ourselves ten feet into the sky,” Carmilla finished. She stood back up and wiped her hands on her pants, brow furrowed as she deliberated. “If we don’t take this route, we’ll have to double back. What do you think?”

Laura wrung her hands anxiously. The longer they took to decide, the more chance they gave to the Careers to catch up. But there was no way of knowing how long it would take to find another suitable path that led to the tunnel, or how long they would be stuck heading in the wrong direction. But the image of JP’s severed hand was stark in her mind. She didn’t want to meet the same end as him.

“Let’s go back. We can’t risk it. And we’ve got the compass, we can make it,” Laura said. Carmilla nodded and they turned around, back the way they had come. 

They took several intertwining paths, Carmilla glancing at the compass and cursing fretfully every couple of steps. There were dead-ends everywhere, and they met solid wall every time they tried to pull south. Laura felt time slipping through her fingers like water. Their window of opportunity was shrinking rapidly. She tried her best not to worry about the setting sun and receding light. 

Finally they found themselves on a long, stretching path.

“There! There it is,” Carmilla gasped. Down the path, the flattened hedge where Laura had accidentally discovered the tunnel opening was just visible.

It was about a hundred metres away. Not far from where they stood, though they couldn’t see it from here, would be the wire that would set off the explosion when cut.

“Come on!” Laura said, but Carmilla had her head tipped back to the darkening sky, the compass held open in her hand. 

“There’s no time, Laura,” Carmilla said, an edge of panic to her normally unwavering voice.

“But what are we going to do?” Laura asked frantically.

“Keep moving. Hide somewhere in the maze for tonight, and work something out in the morning. It’s almost eight o’clock. If we don’t get through by the time the tunnel starts filling up, we’ll be electrocuted.”

“I know … it’s just...” Laura dug her fingertips into her scalp. “No, you’re right. We can’t﹘”

A shout interrupted her. Every particle of her body went cold. 

Running feet made a rapid rhythm. 

“They’re coming,” Laura said hoarsely. “They caught up.”

Carmilla opened her mouth to reply but her eyes fixated on something over Laura’s shoulder.

She turned around, knowing already what she would see. At the mouth of the path was the four of them - Danny and Mel from District One, Kirsch and Theo from District Two. It was her worst fear in the maze finally materialising. She had dreaded seeing them every time she turned a corner, since their very first day in the maze. And now they had finally caught up.

“Laura, run!” Carmilla yelled, already pulling her up the path towards the explosive waiting to be triggered.

“We can’t!” Laura screamed. There was no way they would miss the wire at this pace. And if they set it off, they would be running into an explosion, into smoke and fire and flying bits of wreckage.

Carmilla sent her knife streaking through the air - towards the tunnel entrance. It cut a sharp path through the air, handle over blade over handle, until it cut cleanly through the wire, halfway between them and the tunnel entrance.

A forcefield of sound exploded outwards from the tiny bomb as fiery clouds blossomed into the air. Laura screamed as a wall of force carrying clumps of dirt and bits of hedge charged into her; her head knocked into Carmilla’s shoulder. Carmilla’s hands, under her elbows, held her up. 

Together, they made for the tunnel entrance, stumbling the first few steps. She didn’t know how far behind the Careers were.

Twenty metres to go. Fifteen metres to go. Carmilla's shoulder pressed against hers. Her head spun. Ten metres to go. Something whistled past her face; brushing so close she felt the air against her cheek. The arrow implanted itself in the ground a few meters ahead.

“Get _down!_ ” Carmilla growled, shoving Laura ahead of her. They were at the tunnel entrance, newly exposed with all surrounding hedge and wall obliterated. Laura was pushed down the tunnel roughly. She landed on her butt at the bottom and scrambled to her feet. In the circle of daylight above her she saw Carmilla, clinging to the lip. Another arrow zipped past, narrowly missing her.

“Carmilla!” She screamed. A second later she was almost knocked over for the second time as Carmilla slid down the tunnel into her, but they were both off and running a second later. Their feet pounded deafeningly on the tunnel floor, which was at the moment still mercifully dry.

A barrage of sounds followed them as they sprinted, the four Careers sliding down the tunnel with shouts and yelled instructions.

She kept an eye on the small pipes protruding from the walls and her ears open to the water gurgling behind the walls enclosing them, knowing that the moment the water hit the tunnel floor she and Carmilla would be fried. 

How had it all gone so terribly wrong?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry we're one day late updating - Christmas was full on! Hope everyone who celebrates it had a great day :)

Whatever grand intentions they had held with their elaborate plan, they had crumbled into this - the chase, the never-ending tunnel and the footsteps like pounding rain. As they passed metres of identical wall, Laura couldn’t remember how long they had been running, or if they hadn’t been running for ever. There was no beginning, no end, just this - Laura and Carmilla, the chased, and right behind them, the chasers. 

As her feet ran, her mind scrambled for an escape route. She let herself entertain the possibility that LaFontaine hadn’t followed through with their part of the plan - something had gone wrong, and they hadn’t had time to get electricity flowing through the wires. Then, if they could only stay in front of the Careers, they might be able to escape the tunnel unscathed, and join LaFontaine and Perry in the new shelter before they were caught. 

But then Carmilla, running in front of her, hurdled an ominous looking bundle of wires and metal, and Laura’s hope shattered.

The heavy footfalls of the Careers behind them were like gunshots echoing in the crowded space. Carmilla glanced back at her frequently, her face urging Laura to hurry up. But though she desperately wanted to escape, she simply couldn’t make her stiff legs go any faster than they were already going. She leapt over more bunches of wires, all emitting a light buzzing, as they passed pipes in the walls, the tunnel stretching on and on but never finishing. She couldn’t tell if it was her imagination telling her that the cacophony of footsteps behind her was getting closer or not. Never in her life had she been more terrified than in this moment, not with the Careers on their heels, wielding deadly weapons, so close she could smell their bloodthirsty intent. Not with the gurgle of water that was just loud enough to remind them of its presence. 

Then, up ahead - the tunnel snaked upwards, disappearing out of sight. Laura gasped with relief, but it was short-lived. There was a hesitant sputtering, which quickly developed into a steady splashing as water began to dribble from the pipes.

“ _Don’t touch the water!_ ” Carmilla gasped out frantically, but in hushed tones. Laura realised suddenly what Carmilla had already noticed - the Careers would have no idea what kind of dangerous trap the tunnel was now becoming, wouldn’t know that the water about to flood the tunnel from the floor up would soon come alive with electricity, ready to shock to death anyone who touched it. 

“Hurry!” Laura cried. Carmilla slowed to a stop where the tunnel inclined sharply and used Laura’s momentum as she charged along to push her scrambling up the slope. Laura half-crawled onto the grassy turf outside the tunnel, clambering around frantically to grab Carmilla’s forearm. As she hauled her to the surface, she looked down the tunnel for an instant, to see the four Careers approaching, barraging and pushing each other around in the contained space - and beyond them, the large puddle that was creeping steadily towards them, as the pipe’s flow increased to a roar. Then, with a final yank, Carmilla came flying into the open, and they both landed sprawled on the ground. 

Immediately, they clambered to their feet and began to run again, into the shadowy twilight. Neither was completely sure where LaFontaine and Perry had set up camp and it didn’t matter anyway; it was so dark now that they would have no hope of finding their camouflaged camp. Besides, Laura didn’t want to involve them in the fight and she had more pressing matters to deal with at present - namely, getting as far away from the Careers as possible.

Tearing through the river and into the fields beyond, Laura heard splashing from behind them - not the sound of water splattering onto the surface of more water as the tunnels filled, but the sound of a something - or someone - falling into the water. It was followed by a wrenching scream, a guttural noise that made Laura’s spine tingle with horror.

But amidst the revulsion, she knew a small, guilty relief that they wouldn’t have to face the Career who had just been electrocuted.

Carmilla grabbed Laura’s wrist, yanking her suddenly to the left. Why Carmilla had suddenly changed her mind she didn’t know. Perhaps she realised it wouldn’t be much longer until the Career’s fresher legs inevitably caught them if they kept running across the open plains. Maybe she planned to dive under the tarp as she had last night, letting the Careers tire themselves out as they searched for them. Whatever the reason, she would never know, for just as they returned to the river’s edge, about to cross back over, the Careers burst from the tunnel entrance. First was Danny, emerging with a sword held aloft. She stood in a crouch, knees bent and shoulders hunched, but still looked impossibly tall and dangerous, with her lethal blade poised to strike. She scanned the area as Kirsh and Theo scrambled out of the tunnel entrance on either side of her - Mel was apparently the only one to fall victim to the trap. Laura and Carmilla stood on the other side of the river to them, absolutely nowhere to hide, when all three Career’s gazes landed on them. 

“Laura, run,” Carmilla muttered through gritted teeth. “Now.” Across the river, Danny’s face split into a feral grin. 

“But﹘” Laura started, unable to take her eyes of the deadly trio outside the tunnel entrance. Where could she run? Towards the hedge? She could hardly attempt to hide under the tarp now with all three of them watching. Back toward the direction they had started in? Was Carmilla coming with her?

“ _Now!_ ” Carmilla yelled, as Danny suddenly broke into a run, splashing into the river. 

Laura’s body obeyed the command without conscious thought - she was turning, sprinting, pushing herself away from the murderous figure that was Danny and the two boys who followed close behind.

She whipped her head over her shoulder. Carmilla stood stock-still but she held a knife in each hand as she waited. “Carmilla!” Laura pleaded. 

Carmilla didn’t reply, and Laura watched, scrambling into the river in a sort of backwards run, as Carmilla’s crossed knives meet Danny’s sword. The resultant clang of metal was harsh and jarring, and Laura felt like she could feel the reverberations running down her arms from the force of Danny’s strike, as though she was the one parrying the blow. Carmilla pushed the sword away with a grunt and then it became a whirlwind of clashing metal; Danny hurling the sword towards Carmilla with two hands, Carmilla landing each blow on a knife and pushing it away - it was hard for Laura to keep up with through backward glances. As Danny swept her sword towards Carmilla’s knees and Carmilla just barely hurdled it, Laura let out a fearful “ _Carm!_ ” 

Unfortunately, her outcry drew the attention of the other two Careers, who, until then, had also been watching the fight. But now they tore their eyes away and focused on Laura, and cold fear curdled in her stomach. She stood in the middle of the river, water circling her ankles as Kirsh started towards her, and drew her knife shakily. The shape of the handle was unfamiliar in her hand; it didn’t fit and it wasn’t comfortable. But she wasn’t going to meet her end with a spear in her back as she tried to escape by running down a river. She had to at least try to defend herself. 

Kirsh strode languidly towards the river, tossing the spear from one hand to the other. Behind him, Theo watched his approach carefully, holding an axe loosely in one hand. Laura steeled herself. 

Just then, they were all interrupted by the appearance of LaFontaine, who came from nowhere, creating quite the distraction as they charged at full speed towards the fight with one arm raised, hollering what was possibly supposed to be some kind of war cry, but sounded more like the demented crow a rooster might let out if trod on during its morning wake-up call. In their raised hand they held a small tube. Everyone except Carmilla and Danny, who were still engaged in a vicious struggle, paused to watch as LaFontaine let out a final yell and flung the tube towards Kirsh. Everyone’s eyes followed the curve of the container as it soared through the air, bounced harmlessly off Kirsh’s chest and rolled to a stop on the ground. 

There was a moment of silence as they all considered this development, until it was broken by Kirsh’s laughter. It was only a bark at first, disbelief at an attack so feeble, but then another one tumbled out and they rolled together until he was laughing so hard he doubled over, bracing himself with his hands on his knees, while behind him Theo sniggered as well.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Kirsh spluttered, wiping tears from his eyes. “How did you survive this long?”

LaFontaine looked unfazed, and looked on almost expectantly as Danny took another swipe at Carmilla as she snapped at him. 

“Kirsh! Gonna let me﹘” she grunted with effort as Carmilla blocked another slash, “﹘do all the work? Get on with it!”

“You got it, D-bear.” Kirsh squared his shoulders, his laughter ceasing immediately. Laura scrambled back a few steps as he cracked his knuckles menacingly and raised his spear. Then he raised his foot and leered at LaFontaine. “Sorry to ruin your best weapon, genius.”

He stomped down hard on the tube and it exploded messily, the contents plastering over Kirsh’s feet and the ground around him. 

“What the﹘” Kirsh started furiously, as he struggled to lift his foot and found it stuck to the ground. 

_The glue from the tarp!_ The realisation struck Laura and she snuck a glance to her right, to find LaF grinning smugly. 

In desperation, Kirsh tried again to take a step forward, only to land his other foot in the puddle, where it also stuck fast. 

“Kirsh!” Danny screamed again in frustration. In front of her, Carmilla expertly ducked under her sword and lunged forward with her knife, forcing Danny to dodge sideways.

“I’m stuck!” Kirsh exclaimed unnecessarily.

“We can see that, idiot,” Theo commented, from where he watched on with his arms crossed, apparently unbothered to join in. 

Kirsh huffed. His eyes landed on Laura and she could see the cogs in his brain working as he looked from her, to the spear in his hand and back again. 

Laura let out a frightened breath and started to back away slowly, as if Kirsh was a wild bear. If only he were - thanks to her massively over-protective Dad she knew all about dealing with them, but unfortunately had no clue how to safely maneuver away from a spear-wielding maniac. Behind Kirsh, Danny sent the pommel of her sword into Carmilla’s chin, and Carmilla let out a startled cry as her head snapped back. Laura glanced quickly back to Kirsh, who narrowed his eyes in concentration as he pulled the spear back, preparing to throw.

“LaF, look out﹘” Laura cut off with a gasp as the Kirsh sent the spear towards them, narrowly missing her and LaF. It plunged into the soft turf at the riverbank, and his expression formed into one of confusion as he pondered how exactly he was going to retrieve his weapon.

“Oh, come on,” Theo snarled at Kirsh. He strode forward, brandishing his axe and Laura scrambled back in earnest.

He splashed into the river and swung the axe, hard. She saw the swing in perfect clarity; it cut a path through the air, sun glinting off the flat surface, the sharp end thrusting towards her. She leaped backwards, almost stumbling over the slippery rocks on the bottom of the river. Another swing, and she jumped backwards again, the axe narrowly missing her. All the air in her body was sucked out of her, her throat closing with fear - knowing how close the axe had come to slicing her body cleanly in two. Knowing that the question of whether she would live or die was balancing on her ability to dodge the swing of his lethal axe. 

She held her knife out in desperation and Theo laughed. Rearing back, he slashed the axe through the air in a graceful, grim display of brutality. She ducked down to a crouch, the axe cutting through the air where her head had been only an instant before - and as she sank into a squat, she realised what her only advantage was. The advantage that was the only hope for people like her, people who didn’t train for this. It was the fact that Theo was not prepared for her to be an even match. 

When the axe had whistled over her head, she sprang up, slashing wildly with the knife. The chance was there if she wanted it, to mortally wound him. As it was, she lost her nerve at the last moment. As she swung the knife, she searched inside herself for the will to kill another human and found that, even in the interests of self-preservation, she still lacked it - the knife merely cut a bloody, shallow arc across his chest. Theo yelped anyway, more out of pain or outrage, she couldn’t tell. Angrily, he swung the axe at her head - the blade missed but the handle slammed into her temple and sent her flailing backwards. Her foot slipped on a smooth rock under the water and she splashed heavily into the river.

Momentarily submerged, she gasped for air that wasn’t there and water rushed into her open mouth instead. Her hands scrambled underneath her on the muddy river bed, searching for purchase, and she surged upwards, but no sooner had she broken the surface was she pushed roughly under again. 

She found herself drowning once more, this time with Theo’s hands closed tightly around her throat, holding her under. 

Every muscle in her body, every synapse and nerve, exploded with panic; she thrashed wildly, her brain screaming for oxygen. The sky was now so dark that the film of water was impossible to see through. 

She squirmed and kicked against the unrelenting force, but to no avail. Her vision began to cloud, the edges melting into splotchy grey. Terror ran rampant in her, and among it, only a single thought was clear.

_I am going to die._

With her vision a senseless blur, she felt her grasp on consciousness slipping. She couldn’t move her oxygen-starved muscles, could no longer think a sensible thought in a terror-induced fog. Then, just as the last few strands of consciousness were being severed, the pressure on her throat released. 

She exploded into a wrenching series of coughs, drawing long, rattling breaths in between as she pulled herself from the river. Wet clumps of hair clung to her face and water ran down her body in streams as she gasped for air, blinking at the scene in front of her in astonishment.

Theo was on his knees in front of her, face contorted in agony. She watched in horror as he keeled onto his front, face-first in the river, unmoving. Water ran over him as though he was nothing but another rock. It mingled with clouds of dark liquid. Blood, from the wound in his back. She raised her gaze to Perry, who was standing behind Theo with a bloody knife clutched with both hands. 

Perry’s mouth was slightly ajar; the two girls held a horrified gaze for three seconds. Then Laura stumbled to her feet, her head spinning.

“Hey …” Laura put a hand on Perry’s arm. Perry’s hands were still stiff around the knife, holding it in mid-air. “Hey, Perry﹘” She was interrupted by the sound of Theo’s cannon and her head snapped up, taking in the fight still raging around them. 

Kirsh still struggled on the spot, yelling furiously. Neither Carmilla nor Danny had managed to overpower the other, but the fight had only increased in intensity. It had become a mixture of weapon and fist-fighting; forearms and elbows and fists and knees, instead of just swords and knives. 

Laura spun, looking for more opponents, but realised Danny was the only remaining enemy - Mel had been eliminated from the fight before it had even started, and Theo had joined her, face-down in the river. Of course Kirsh could make a reappearance if he was smart enough to just take his shoes off, but Laura was not too worried about that. 

With her and Perry, it made three against one, but she had no idea how to intervene in the fight without making it worse. It seemed the epitome of stupidity to stand around watching as Carmilla fought tooth and nail, but there was just no use, the fight moved too fast.

In an effort to find some way she could help, any at all, she surveyed the area once again, and through the darkness her eyes fell on the axe lying next to the dead body that was Theo. Though she balked at the thought of using it herself, it couldn’t hurt to add another weapon to their team’s inventory.

She ran over and snatched it up from where it lay, the handle resting on the bank and the blade sitting in the flowing stream, and then turned, searching for LaFontaine, wanting to ask them how they could help Carmilla, because they always had an idea. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to kill Danny, surely there was something the three of them could orchestrate to help Carmilla escape somehow.

That was when she realised she had no idea where LaF was.

Her question was answered a moment later as clouds of smoke started to fill the air. Laura looked around to the source and saw LaFontaine, who had just dropped a smoke bomb. 

Within moments, the air was thick with it and when combined the natural dark of the night, Laura couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her. In a panic, she grabbed Perry’s arm and the two clutched each other, searching fruitlessly for the others. 

“Laura! Perry! Come on, let’s go!” LaFontaine’s voice called, from behind. She let go of Perry, searching for LaFontaine. Her hand grasped a bunch of material. 

“LaF?”

“It’s me. Where’s Perry?”

The air was filled with mingling cadences - from across the river, Danny’s shouting; from further down was Kirsh. “Right here. Where’s Carmilla?” She answered, stretching out an arm for Perry, but meeting only empty air. “Perry? Where are you? Carm?”

An ominous splashing came to them - someone crossing the river. 

“Come on, let’s go,” LaFontaine urged again. “Carmilla will catch up. We’ve got to find cover. Come on, come on.”

“I can’t find Perry!” Laura answered frantically. All around her, walls of smoke encased her. Blurry shapes flitted to and fro - whether friend or foe she couldn’t be sure. Her internal sense of direction was becoming disarmingly blurry; she struggled to remember which way the river was, which way the hedge wall was. 

LaFontaine seemed to remember though, because they dragged Laura determinedly in one direction. They cautiously half-ran until they met the familiar hedge wall. 

“Laura!” She heard Carmilla call from somewhere close by, her voice panicked. 

“We’ll wait﹘” LaFontaine was cut off by the sound of a strangled scream, splitting through the fog. Fear flipped Laura’s stomach as the scream dwindled to a choking cry. 

“Perry? Perry!” LaFontaine yelled frantically. The pair of them could do nothing but squint into the darkness, trying to make out anything at all. After a terrible moment of uncertainty, an unexpected body barrelled into them.

“Laura,” said Carmilla once again, before her face loomed out of the fog, followed by the rest of her body. “We’ve got to go.”

“But Perry﹘”

A cannon spliced through the air, sudden and final. 

Carmilla said, voice heavy, “There’s nothing more we can do.”


	14. Chapter 14

The next day was the hardest yet. In all the time she had spent in the Capitol being forced to give up her dignity, being forced into the arena to battle other teens - nothing could possibly compare to the pain that was last night. 

In the short time they had been friends, Laura had never known LaF to be so quiet. It was actually kind of scary. 

None of them had said a word as they had fled from the fight, taking short periodic breaks, but never giving the Careers the chance to catch up. After a short night of restless sleep, her memories of the previous night felt stitched together. She remembered the wind streaking against her tear soaked face. She remembered LaFontaine slowing to a stop as the moon reached the peak of its arc, and how their face was completely blank, and she had had to grab their hand and pull them along. She remembered lying awake to see Perry’s face in the sky. She had looked up at the projected image, the familiar face with her timid expression and tears had run in streams down the sides of her face into her hair and her hitched breathing had been the only sound in the night. 

When she woke in the morning, she had lain for a blissful few seconds, forgetting what had occurred. For those moments, it could have been any point in time, a time before she had known the grief of losing Perry. 

Then she sat up and saw two sleeping shapes, not three, and the dark creature of grief in her stomach clawed its way up her throat. 

Now they were all huddled against the wall of the hedge, the tarp they’d slept under last night bunched at their feet, ready for them to disappear under at the slightest sign of movement. The last of their food supplies had been polished off that morning, mostly by Carmilla, since Laura couldn’t stomach more than a few bites and LaFontaine had neglected to even try. 

It felt so strange, to know Perry wasn’t here and wasn’t coming back, and even stranger, to imagine the gruesome death she had met at Danny’s hands, when she had been such a kind and loving person. Laura’s throat felt permanently clogged, because she couldn’t last a second without remembering what a complete and utter injustice it was that Perry was dead, and that right now her body would be in the bowels of the Gamemakers Headquarters, awaiting its return to her District. Except she would never really return to the her District, and whatever her life before the Games had been like, it was gone now, because she had died in this awful, merciless arena.

The open fields presented a completely different kind of danger than the winding tunnels within the maze. Without anywhere to hide or run, being spotted by the Careers would ensure a confrontation, so they were back to the familiar rhythm of hiding and sleeping in shifts. They kept up a convincing pretense of normalcy, listening for signs of the Careers, sharing out the food, trekking dutifully along the hedge wall, but nothing could change the fact that there was only three of them when there should have been four. 

LaFontaine was now upending their backpack and fiddling with an arrangement of wires. Laura didn’t know if they had any purpose or if they were just searching for a distraction.

“We should go gather some food,” Carmilla suggested quietly to Laura. Laura supposed that, as immune to other’s pain she might seem at times, Carmilla was trying to give LaFontaine some space, to comfort them in the only way she could. So Laura reluctantly left them behind.

Carmilla stripped off her jacket to form a makeshift bag for the fruit. Her face was sombre as she picked. Laura didn’t speak as she piled tiny, blue berries in her palm. A furious grief was still cleaving her open and she didn’t want to talk about, didn’t want to do anything but push it down and try to ignore it. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carmilla look up, about to speak, and her insides tightened. _Don’t talk about Perry._

But apparently Carmilla didn’t want to talk about Perry either. “The Gamemakers will be getting bored.”

Laura looked up, searching for a reply. “Well, they can shove it,” she muttered.

Carmilla snorted, which only worsened Laura’s mood. Every time they acted like life could move on with Perry, it just accentuated her absence more. It only made it clear that the Earth was still spinning and the sun was still shining and Carmilla could still laugh even though Perry wasn’t here to see any of it. 

“Well your mum wouldn’t let them do anything to us,” Laura said in a low voice. Carmilla glanced around as though she could see the cameras. 

“She doesn’t have that much control,” Carmilla muttered, head down, lips barely moving. “Anyway, if she was going to be protecting anyone it would be Will. I’m sure she thinks I’ve doomed myself by saddling myself with you guys.” 

“Maybe you have,” Laura murmured. 

Carmilla didn’t answer, crouching down to examine a plant in front of her. She rested on her ankles, and rolled a leaf between her fingers absentmindedly, something obviously on her mind.

“What’s your family like? Back home.”

Laura glanced up, surprised at the question. “It’s just me and my dad.” The obvious gap of a mother gaped wide open but Carmilla didn’t probe, just nodded. 

“You’re close to him?”

Laura nodded, eyes prickling. She had been teetering on the edge of tears all day and now she was wandering dangerously close to falling over it.

“It must have been hard to say goodbye.”  
“It was,” Laura said. Unbidden, thoughts of Perry’s imagined family started filling her mind. “It was especially hard … I mean, knowing that I won’t see him again.”

“What?” Carmilla frowned. “Why do you think that?”

“Oh, don’t,” Laura snapped, her fragile hold on her emotions slipping. “You and I both know I won’t be the one leaving this arena alive. Don’t pretend.”

“You don’t know that,” Carmilla insisted. “You don’t know what could happen. You’ve made it this far. There’s only a handful of tributes left.”

“I’ve only made it this far because _you_ keep saving my ass along the way! I can’t even kill anyone, for God’s sake! There is _no way_ I am making it out of this arena!” And as she spoke, for the first time, the truth of the words hit her full-force. Logically, she had been fully aware of her chances coming into this arena. But now that she thought of JP, remains scattered on the ground, and Perry, on the wrong side of Danny’s sword, she could picture herself too, in a neat wooden box, her hair parted and clothes pressed as she made her way out the arena in a hovercraft so her dad could bury her in the tiny graveyard down the road from her house. 

“You can’t give up, Laura!” Carmilla said, straightening. She was looking at her almost pleadingly. “You have to at least try! If anyone deserves to make it out of here alive, it’s you.”

Laura groaned. “How can you say that? How can my life be any more important that any other tributes? None of us deserve to be in here. To die.”

Carmilla looked as though she wanted to say more, but before she could, Laura turned and strode back to where LaFontaine sat, an ache spreading in her chest. She knew Carmilla was just trying to keep her spirits up, but what was the point of holding on to false hope?

Her anger disappeared as she sat next to the lone, hunching figure. Laura watched the side of their face for a few long minutes before deciding on what to say. When she spoke, her voice was hesitant and scratchy. “It must be so hard for you. I mean, if it feels like this for me, when I only knew her a few weeks, it must be - I mean, I can’t imagine what it feels like. For you.”

LaFontaine’s face stayed a careful blank but they looked up - not at Laura, but at the fields beyond. “You know, right from the start, when we got reaped together, all I could think was how unfair it was. How they force us in here, and to get back home you have to be the last one standing. I mean, that’s what everyone thinks about, right? And I was so homesick, right from when my name was called, because I knew how unlikely it was that I would get to go home. I _knew_ I had little - if any - chance. But now … now I have none.” They blinked several times, quickly, and when they spoke again their voice was horribly thick. “Because even if I go home, it wouldn’t be home anymore. Not without﹘” Their voice broke and they shut their mouth tightly. 

“I know,” Laura said quickly, her insides twisting in agony at watching LaFontaine trying to speak. 

They sat in silence - if not a comfortable one, an agreeable one.

The sun had began to melt into the horizon when Carmilla returned. LaFontaine had long since curled up against the hedge wall and Laura had draped the tarp over them. 

“Hey,” Carmilla said, dropping down on the grass next to Laura.

“Hey,” Laura replied.

A few beats of silence passed, both waiting for the anthem. 

“I didn’t want to upset you,” Carmilla said quietly. “But you have to realize that you have a chance of getting out. You’ve always had a chance, but you don’t see it.”

“Thanks,” Laura replied, because it seemed like the right thing to say, and because she didn’t want to start a fight by contradicting her again, even though she didn’t believe a word she said. But when she studied the other girl’s face in the dim light, it looked earnest. And Laura didn’t think Carmilla would try to bolster her with false hope if there was truly no hope to be found. 

The anthem suddenly interrupted the silence and Laura and Carmilla craned their necks to see that no one had died that day. The emblem of Panem hung in the sky the whole time the music played, and faded when it finished. It had been a full day since Perry’s death. Over 24 hours, and the pain of the injustice of it all hadn’t lessened. Laura’s throat ached from holding back tears all day.

“Are you alright?” Carmilla asked.

“Fine,” Laura replied automatically. “I just feel ... guilty.”

Carmilla didn’t ask for an explanation out loud, but watched her patiently.

Laura took a deep breath, the tail-end of it shuddering with repressed tears. “I feel like - I don’t have the right to be sad. Because I didn’t know her well enough. And I shouldn’t be sad because … because it’s my fault. I didn’t protect her. So I can’t mourn her, when it was all my fault.” When she blinked, two tears traced a quick path down her cheeks and hovered on the edge of her jaw. 

Carmilla grabbed her wrist fiercely, tracing her thumb over the veins on the inside of her arm. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You want someone to blame? Blame the people who put us in this god-forsaken place.”

Again and again, Laura saw the moments preceding Perry’s death - emerging from the river to see her white, blood-splattered face, her hands clutching the knife. Her bony wrist clasped in Laura’s fingers as fog fumed in the air. She felt the moment when she let go, searching for LaFontaine. It felt so real; as if she should be able to reach out and clasp her wrist again, bring her back. 

She could hear the memory of Perry’s scream; playing in her mind on an endless reel. _Stop thinking about it_ , Laura thought furiously. _Stop it_ , she ordered the scream, but it didn’t stop. 

“I mean it, Laura,” Carmilla said. “You know who the real enemies are. And it’s not you, or us.”

She didn’t say it, but Laura heard her unspoken words. It was the Gamemakers, huddled around computers in the Gamemaker’s Headquarters. It was the Capitol citizen’s fault, who treated the whole thing as a sport, who endorsed the deaths of children in the name of entertainment. It was Carmilla’s mother, who put children, orphans who had already lost so much, into this death tournament as part of her sickening revenge plan.

“Don’t say that,” Laura muttered. “You’ll make the Gamemakers angry. They’ll target us.”

“Since we’re here having this conversation, I’d say they already have,” Carmilla pointed out. She trailed her fingertips lightly along Laura’s forearm and continued softly. “Your grief is a testament to you. It shows that, even after everything you’ve been through, you can still feel empathy. You can still be sad for others. Do you even know how much strength of character that shows? There are other people who go through things like this and it changes them. But you haven’t let it change who you are.” She was leaning forward almost imperceptibly, and her eyes pleaded with Laura. “You haven’t let it turn you into me.”

There was an undercurrent to her voice, and it spoke of a lifetime of pain. The agony of the worst kind of failure; to fail yourself. To hate who you were becoming.

“Or maybe,” Laura said quietly, “maybe, these experiences aren’t only about holding on to your values. Maybe they’re about finding them. You don’t have to know, Carmilla. You don’t have to know who you are right now. You still have time.”

She wondered if Perry had known who she was when she died. She locked gazes with Carmilla and felt she was wondering the same thing.

“You know she saved me, right?” Laura said. “She … she stabbed Theo in the back. He was drowning me, in the river. I couldn’t get up. I nearly died.”

“I know,” Carmilla said, turning away, face drawn.

“But don’t you see? I forced her to do that. She would never have wanted to do it. And now she’s dead, and I made her sacrifice her values.” Her voice sounded awfully close to whining but she was unable to rein her emotions back, now that she had loosened them free. She couldn’t stomp down this writhing guilt anymore, not when it festered deep within her and yearned to be heard.

Carmilla turned back. “Laura, she died saving her friends. That’s who she was. You didn’t make her give up anything.”

“It’s so unfair,” Laura said, more tears trickling out. “That those Careers are alive, and she isn’t.”

Carmilla looked about to say something, then stopped and only said, “Yes it is. It’s not fair. None of this is.”

And then Laura really began to cry, finally opening the well of grief that she had kept closed so tightly. And once she did, she found she found the well had no bottom, so she kept crying, resting her forehead on Carmilla’s collarbone. Carmilla’s fingers stroked her hair and she thought she could hear her sniff once, twice. She didn’t know she was crying too until she felt a dampness on the top of her head, where Carmilla’s head was resting. 

Eventually, Carmilla leaned down and whispered that she’d take watch, her hair tickling Laura’s neck, and Laura let herself be tucked under the tarp. 

As she drifted off, Carmilla’s words from earlier played in her mind. _The Gamemakers will be getting bored._ That statement would be even more true today. After all, the Games were, at their essence, games, and there to entertain the Capitol citizens. With Perry, Mel and Theo all gone, only seven tributes remained. There had been no deaths yesterday, and with fewer tributes, it was becoming easier to avoid accidently meeting foes. She knew from watching all the Games over the years that the Gamemakers would be looking for some way to force the tributes together, in order to manufacture another death. 

With that not-so-comforting thought, she rolled over, relieved to let the embrace of sleep take her away from the pain of the last couple of days, if only for a few hours.

***

“Do we need this?” Laura asked. She held up a small contraption with metal spikes protruding from it in random directions. 

“Definitely.” Laf nodded. 

With a shrug, Laura chucked it onto the ‘keep’ pile, currently significantly larger than the ‘discard’ pile. Which was empty. 

“Okay, we’re nearly all the way through the backpack,” Laura announced. “Surely there’s _something_ we can leave behind?”

“There’s not!” Laf insisted. “How could I take some and leave others? It’s like asking me to pick my favourite child!”

Carmilla groaned and kicked at the pile of LaFontaine’s inventions, sending the top few clattering to the ground. 

“This one?” Laura pulled a tube from the bag, a pale red liquid sloshing around inside.

“It blinds you. Keep.”

“No way,” Carmilla cut in, clearly frustrated. She had proposed that morning that they take only minimal weapons and traps on with them, and use the space freed in the backpack to carry extra food in case an emergency escape into the maze was needed. So far it was not going well. “If someone attacks us, I’m going to send a knife through their heart before they can blink. Whether they can see or not isn’t going to matter.”

“That’s a good point,” Laura agreed. “Gruesome, but still a good point.”

She discarded it to her left, ignoring LaF’s grumbling. 

It took a while, but eventually LaF agreed to leaving behind a few of their more unconventional inventions, and Carmilla packed the items they would keep into the backpack, including some serums, smoke bombs, a grenade and a smattering of deadly objects. 

“Alright, let’s split,” Carmilla ordered. She gathered the discarded objects in her arms and handed Laura the backpack. “I’ll bury what we’re not keeping so no one else can find them. Laura, you fill the backpack with food, and you﹘” she pointed at LaF. “Fill our bottles with water.” 

At this, LaF’s face paled and Laura knew the mention of the river was filling them with visions of the fight, and Perry’s death. 

“Um﹘” Laura jumped in, and Carmilla paused from where she was already walking away, to turn back slightly. “How about I do the water instead? And LaF can collect food. I’m rubbish at picking what’s safe to eat anyway.”

Carmilla’s eyes flicked from Laura’s face, to LaFontaine’s and back again. “Fine,” she shrugged. “Probably a better idea anyway. Eating some lethal berries would be a pretty stupid way to go at this point.”

She strode away in search of softer soil and Laura passed the backpack to LaF with a gentle smile, feeling slightly foolish for sheltering LaFontaine like a small child. But there was nothing else for her to do but let them work through the pain. She knew she couldn’t really make it any easier for them, 

“Thanks.” LaF smiled gratefully, and scurried off in the direction of the plants. 

Laura picked up the water bottles from the grass and trudged over to the river. It bubbled and gurgled along, as pristine and cheerful as ever, as though it belonged in paradise, not an arena of death. 

Memories of being held under the very same water flooded her, and she shuddered, sending an anxious glance over her shoulder as though Theo would be there again, about to tackle her into the river. 

There was no one there of course, only Carmilla crouched among some mushroom plants, digging with her hands, and LaFontaine foraging through a cluster of shrubs, the ridiculously yellow backpack at their feet. 

Shoving the feeling of dread and terrible memories from her mind as best she could, she crouched to the ground and let the water flow into the first open bottle, watching it swirl and jump against the metal. 

When the bottle was full she carefully screwed it shut and set it aside. As she pried off the lid of the second bottle, she registered an ominous rumbling - initially quiet enough to dismiss, but in a matter of seconds, it had grown to a deafening roar and she dropped the bottle in alarm. A shout came from behind her, and she whipped around, barely registering the ground shuddering.

It was like looking right into the face of death. 

Carmilla was sprinting towards her, face wild with fear. The pile of objects and dirt behind her left abandoned. LaFontaine was struggling with the backpack, trying to force the zippers closed while fastening it on their shoulders at the same time. 

A massive tidal wave towered behind them. Its colossal size rendered Carmilla and LaFontaine dolls in comparison.

Laura forgot everything; forgot the bottles, forgot the river. She forgot everything except the wave - so big, it wiped everything else from her mind.

It was stories high, and stretched as far as Laura could see. Coming from the horizon, obviously man-made. Gamemaker-made. It thundered toward them from all directions, poised to break and obliterate everything in its path.

She scrambled to her feet, her haste sending her tumbling into the river, while her brain screamed at her to run. But her fear told her that nothing, and no one was getting away from the monster descending on them. 

No matter how fast they ran.


	15. Chapter 15

For a moment Laura was paralyzed by fear as she floundered in the river, her brain struggling to grasp the sheer enormity of the impending wave. It was so huge the sky had darkened as part of the sun was blacked out. 

But one word materialised in her mind, and stayed clear as a panicked fog overcame her. 

_Run_.

She clambered to her feet, drink bottles in hand and dared a risk over her shoulder, just in time to see the rearing wave crest. And then all at once it broke and hit the ground with an earth-shuddering roar. All she could see was mountains of white foam as the wave collapsed in a watery explosion of sound. All she could hear was the crash of litres upon litres of water thudding to the ground.

She started running - out of the river, towards the hedge wall. She ran faster than she thought possible. Her vision rocketed up and down; she couldn’t focus on anything except the hedge wall in front of her. Carmilla and LaFontaine, blurs in her peripheral vision, reached her and all three of them hit the hedge wall together. It was as impenetrable as always, a metre or more of solid, thick foliage. And Laura realised with a sinking feeling of doom that with all the walking the had done yesterday, they were miles away from the tunnel. 

“ _Hurry!_ ” Carmilla snapped, an unbridled fear in her voice. “We have to find a tunnel _now!_ ”

There had to be others - there wouldn’t just be one way in or out of the maze. But how could they find it in time, or make it through before the tunnels filled to the brim?

Laura and Carmilla’s eyes meet for a fleeting second and she saw the question in the other girl’s eyes.

The wave was writhing and roiling on the horizon, rolling steadily towards them. It wouldn’t take long at all for it to cover what remained of the lush green field. Only a few hundred metres separated them from the wave as they tore along the hedge wall; running and running, but not putting any distance between themselves and the wave.

And then - relief crushed her with all the force of the incoming wave - a small indent in the ground came into view. A perfectly circular tunnel entrance, sitting a few metres from the hedge wall. 

They reached it in unison - LaFontaine was pushed down, their backpack catching on the ground. For an agonizing moment, they hovered in midair, while the roar of the wave filled Laura’s ears.

“Here, take it off,” Laura gasped, almost dislocating LaFontaine’s shoulders as she pulled it off their back and shoved them down the hole. Then she hastily slid down the hole herself, backpack cradled in her arms, knowing Carmilla wouldn’t go down until she did and that there was no time for pointless arguments.

She met LaFontaine when she scrambled to her feet at the bottom of the decline. LaFontaine looked back at her with a face that was a twin to the fear turmoiling in Laura. Without a word, they took the backpack from Laura’s hands.

“I can carry it,” Laura offered.

“I want to have it with me,” LaFontaine protested, as Carmilla came sliding down into them.

“What are you guys waiting for? Go, go!” she snarled, pushing them all into a run. 

It was the mad dash from the Careers all over again, but flipped upside down. Now they ran through a different tunnel, in the opposite direction, with quite a different threat on their heels. Laura tried to picture where the wave would be. Reaching the tunnel entrance at any moment, probably. And then - well the tunnel entrance was small. It would take at least a minute for the wave to completely fill the tunnel with water. But would they be able to make it out in a minute?

Laura had no sense of time, of distance. Didn’t know if they were halfway through, a quarters way - maybe they were almost there and the circle of sunlight marking the exit would appear any moment. 

All too soon, a great roaring filled the tunnel as litres of water started to empty in all at once.

She wanted to say _quick_ or _hurry_ , but she had no breath to spare and the other two were already aware of the urgency of the situation. 

But their close-knit group was unwinding - LaFontaine straggling, Carmilla pounding ahead. Laura reluctantly slowed down her pace, reaching out an imploring hand to LaFontaine - but her own elbow was grabbed by another hand from in front. Carmilla, tugging Laura along. 

_Hurry!_ Laura silently pleaded to LaFontaine, as the thudding of the wave filled the tunnel, an ominous beat marking its impending arrival. 

Then the walls began to lighten - just enough so that Laura thought maybe it was only desperate hope tricking her into imagining it. But it was there, up ahead, light seeping onto the floor from the tunnel entrance.

Laura stuttered to a halt and turned around, desperately peering into the dimness of the tunnel. Carmilla was still beside her, but there was no sign of LaFontaine. Somehow their footsteps had been lost in the growing roar of the wave.

“Laura!” Carmilla yelled from behind her. “Let’s go! We have to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving without LaF!” She took a few steps further back into the tunnel, ignoring the sound of water rushing towards them that made her nerves tingle. 

Carmilla’s hand grasped hers and tugged, trying to pull her back in the direction of the opening, but Laura wouldn’t move. She couldn’t take another step further from LaFontaine. She wouldn’t let it happen again, letting Perry’s hand go and losing her forever.

“If we stand here any longer we’re going to die!” Carmilla pleaded Laura. 

Laura didn’t take her eyes off the curve of the tunnel in front of her. Any moment now. Any moment now LaFontaine would appear. She just had to wait a few seconds and they would appear. There was no other reality worth considering. 

But the next thing to round the corner was not LaFontaine, but a wall of pounding water.

“I’m not leaving LaF!” she screamed desperately over the rush of water, even as spray splattered her, even as her heart rate picked up to flutter hummingbird fast, her body coming alive with the fear of that smothering wall of water. “Not like - hey!”

She was cut off with a strangled cry as her feet left the ground - Carmilla effortlessly threw her over her shoulder and broke into a jog even as Laura pounded on her back with her fists. 

“No!” she screamed. “Put me down! LaF!”

“LaF will either make it out or they won’t,” Carmilla panted as she ran. “You killing yourself by refusing to budge isn’t going to help them.”

Deep down Laura knew Carmilla was right. She knew that she didn’t have a hand in the game anymore - LaFontaine was the only one in charge of their own fate, and no matter how much Laura screamed and cried and punched Carmilla, she couldn’t make LaFontaine run any faster. But she didn’t take her eyes of the darkness for one second, hoping deliriously for LaFontaine to materialise, hoping their figure would become visible at any moment.

“Can I trust you to go up?” Carmilla asked, yelling above the now deafening wave when they reached the upwards slope of the tunnel.

Laura opened her mouth to answer, just as a shock of watery, deathly blue enveloped her vision. The wall of water, rounding the corner, had caught them at last.

Laura screamed with renewed terror as Carmilla dropped her none too gently to the ground and shoved her with equal care up the slope, scrambling behind her. 

“Go, go, go!” Carmilla repeated, pushing Laura as she crawled upwards. Her upper-half was out of the tunnel as the water hit her and suddenly she was in the grip of an insistent current. She grasped onto the solid ground at the lip of the tunnel as her feet were swept out from under her, floating in the tunnel that was now an ocean.

Then, somehow, Carmilla was above her, feet firmly planted on the grass. She grasped both of Laura’s arms tightly to yank her up and out of the tunnel, so they both toppled over but landed, finally, safely on the solid ground. The water in the tunnel continued to rise until it reached the lip, where it bubbled lazily, playing innocent. 

Laura crawled to the water’s edge, and knew there were only seconds for LaFontaine to appear before she would have to draw the conclusion that they were gone. 

Three seconds were gone and Laura’s fingertips were planted so deeply into the bottoms of her palms that couldn’t feel her hands. Couldn’t feel anything but the numb, internal ticking of a clock as seconds slipped away.

Ten seconds passed and the surface of the water frothed and rippled, but no one was there. 

Laura sank into a crouch, huddled in a ball on the ground, and started sobbing into the dry grass. Her body was racking with sobs, with the knowledge that it had happened again. She had lost someone else and now she belonged to a whole new brand of pain. The possibility she had never let herself consider, the unimaginable grief of losing not one, but both of her District three friends - she was living it, and there was no going back to the life before it. 

She envied the Laura of District 7 so bitterly, the Laura who knew nothing of this sort of pain, the Laura she could never be again. 

Carmilla pulled her off the ground. “Laura - hey﹘” her face was gentle, understanding. Until her lips parted suddenly and her expression was overcome by unexpected fear. “Laura - where’s the backpack?”

“The backpack?” Laura asked. Her grief was not enough to distract her from the strangeness of the question, to wonder why on earth Carmilla was choosing this moment to worry about a stupid bag. “It’s gone, Carmilla. They’re gone.”

“LaFontaine has the backpack?” Carmilla asked, with inexplicable urgency. “I thought you had it! You grabbed it from them, when we went in.” Only this could pierce Laura’s grief.

“Who cares about the _backpack?_ ” she snapped. “Don’t you understand? LaFontaine is _dead!_ ” The last word burned her throat; she pulled it from the depths of herself, down at the very roots of her grief.

“We have to get it. We need it,” Carmilla said, and she turned back. She was halfway into the well of water when Laura wrapped hands around her arm and yanked her back.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Laura screamed. “ _Stop it!_ Where are you going?”

There was a brief, silent tussle between them, of grasping hands and nudging elbows and Carmilla’s intent expression. She managed to slip out of Laura’s hands, so Laura had no choice but to resort to physically dragging her away by the arm.  
Carmilla let herself be pulled out, suddenly unresisting. She lay on the ground where Laura let go of her and put her arms over her face.

Laura looked down at her. She didn’t know why Carmilla cared more about the backpack than LaFontaine. She didn’t want to think about it. She wanted to find a way to reverse time and get LaFontaine through the tunnel.

A devouring sickness crawled under her skin. Only ten minutes ago she had been filling the bottles in the river. The memory of the water touching her skin, the bottles cool in her hands, felt dream-like, unreal. Only ten minutes ago she had watched LaFontaine and Carmilla out in the fields. Now LaFontaine was gone and Carmilla was suddenly … not herself. And that horrible feeling of loneliness wrapped its fingers around Laura’s throat. Suddenly she was every bit as lost as she was the day her name was called at the Reaping.

She curled back up on the ground, trying not to think about the fact that LaFontaine’s body was floating somewhere in the tunnels at this very moment, or the fact that she had probably been climbing out into open air as LaFontaine had tried to take another breath and found there was only water. She thought of LaFontaine feeling the way Laura had felt when Theo held her under the water, except no one had saved them because Laura had left her behind. 

It was all too much, to know that LaFontaine was dead and not coming back, and Laura whimpered as she lay huddled on the ground, because she could never unknow it and she could never make it untrue. 

Eventually, she felt Carmilla gently tug her towards her, and she let herself collapse into her arms.

Laura could feel the tickle on her scalp as Carmilla whispered into her hair. “I’m sorry for being an idiot. I just panicked and - I’m really sorry about LaFontaine. They were a good person.”

“But why?” Laura sniffed. “Why does it matter what happened to the bag? Is it such a big deal?”

“No, no, of course not. Don’t even worry about it.”

Laura didn’t reply, but let her tears continue to roll down her cheeks. Carmilla caught each one with her finger, tracing gentle patterns up and around, over her nose and along her forehead. The patterns slowed over time, and so did Laura’s breathing, until she realised she’d stopped crying, and was left only feeling incredibly tired. 

“I wonder who else was caught.” Carmilla’s voice was low, sounding just as worn-out as Laura felt. 

“What?” she asked.

“There were two cannons. Sometime after we made it out of the tunnel. Didn’t you hear them?”

Laura shook her head no. Two cannons. Someone else had died in the tunnels. That meant either Kirsh or Danny, unless one of the other two remaining tributes had also been out in the fields without their knowledge. But she was too numb, too emotionally drained to care who it was. 

Minutes passed and turned into hours. At some point it crossed her mind that by lying here in the middle of the path they were leaving themselves wide open for an attack, but the emotional exhaustion was so absolute it rendered her legs useless. Without the gurgling of the river or the chirps of the bugs outside the maze, they had returned to silence, broken only occasionally by the rumbling of one of their stomachs. All their food lost with the backpack. With LaFontaine. 

It took the anthem blasting through the sky for her to realise darkness had fallen. Beneath her, Carmilla shifted, and together they sat and stared at the emblem of Panem. When the song finished it was replaced, not by the face of LaFontaine, but by Kirsh. Both the District 2 tributes were dead. 

When LaFontaine’s face appeared in the sky, Laura turned her head to face the grass instead.

***

Laura was suspended; hanging helpless in her memories of the previous few nights. Over and over again she lived the worst moments of her life - and when she had emerged from the river only to lose Perry in the smoke, or waited at the tunnel edge for LaFontaine to appear and saw only water for the hundredth time, she tried to pull herself out of the never-ending cycle of horror. But her grief was anxious and insistent; it clawed at Laura and enveloped her in the memories. It was a horrible torment to live it all over again, but she couldn’t ignore it, she couldn’t break free of it. She was suspended in a cycle of grief; from agony, to horror, to wrenching remorse and to sickening guilt, until the grass at her feet became a blur. 

Suddenly, Carmilla’s hand was tugging at her elbow. She let her limp self be pulled to her feet as Carmilla’s other hand clasped hers. They stood opposite each other, Laura’s tears for LaFontaine and Perry momentarily held at bay.

Night had well and truly fallen around them, the sky an inky canvas glittering with stars, but Laura could still make out Carmilla’s eyes twinkling with an idea. One of her hands settled on Laura’s waist, and with her other hand she threaded their fingers together, her thumb lightly tracing back and forth. Laura could feel the soft rasp of her calluses against her skin; could feel Carmilla’s breath dancing across her face. 

She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but before she could, Carmilla pulled her close. She blinked at the proximity, staring at Carmilla’s dark eyes inches from her own. In them glittered thousands of tiny, reflected stars, each one a pinprick of light. She had an instant to see them before she was spun in a circle. The maze flashed around her; she glimpsed the surrounding area in a brief, blurry rush as she twirled. 

“Every year when we visited my mother, she would throw a grand party one night,” Carmilla started, lightly swaying Laura as she spoke. Her voice was soft; it sounded like the voice of the mist twining along the ground. The edge was laced with a whisper. “All her … accomplices were invited, and for just one night we were allowed to dine on all the food we wanted, and after that we would dance. I always loved the waltz.”

“You know how to waltz?” Laura asked in surprise. 

A smile twitched on Carmilla’s lips as she nodded and began to hum. Her voice rose and fell, forming the barest bones of a melody. They moved in time to it, every movement in tune with the nuances of the song. When Carmilla stepped forward, Laura stepped backwards quickly, and then they were dancing, their feet barely skimming the grass as they twirled between the hedge walls. 

Suddenly, the hedge walls that had seemed so stifling were majestic, resplendent, towers soaring into the sky. The spidery grass grazed her feet and they could have been anywhere, in the arena, in the middle of the desert, or on an icy glacier and they would’ve kept dancing because the night belonged to them now. For these few precious moments they weren’t owned by the Capitol. They were only owned by the exhilaration, the elation, the joy of dancing around in the black of the night. 

Carmilla, one arm under Laura’s back, dipped her backwards until her ponytail touched the ground. For a second, she was treated to a view of the sky, the moon glowing and the stars gleaming, and the planes of Carmilla’s face above her; they were rendered almost iridescent in the moonlight. When she was lifted back to her feet, she saw Carmilla’s beaming face, her hint of a smile having given way to a full blown grin. Laura had never seen anything so beautiful in her life, and she told her so, which only served to prove her wrong as Carmilla’s smile grew, accompanied by a faint blush. 

They danced until they became nothing more than two, unknowable girls. They shed their past and their burdens; they forget what they had seen and done and what they were yet to do. It was only Carmilla’s hand on her waist, Carmilla’s finger intertwined with her own, the grass tickling her bare ankles and her heart beating with boundless joy. 

When their quiet laughs at missteps and stumbles turned to yawning and dragging feet, Carmilla insisted they finally stop and rest, and as they settled under the tarp, she realised that for the first time since she’d been in the arena, she’d been, if only for a short time, truly, blissfully happy.


	16. Chapter 16

She couldn’t sleep. 

It had been at least half an hour since they had settled down to sleep, maybe an hour. She wasn’t sure. Her feet felt light, as if they were still skimming across the dewy grass. She glanced to her left - Carmilla’s eyes were closed.

She closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind, but it was clearly no use. Her mind was awake and alive; it was frenzied, replaying the feeling of her and Carmilla, waltzing along the path. 

She tried to tuck the memory away - fold it up and keep it safe, but it demanded to be heard. It monopolized her mind. 

In a desperate attempt to catch some ever-evading sleep, she even tried counting sheep. When she had reached three hundred sheep and was still utterly aware of the faint sound of Carmilla’s breathing next to her, the damp grass tickling the back of her neck and the cool touch of the tarp on her bare skin, she gave up.

She slipped out from under the tarp carefully, trying not to disturb Carmilla. The tarp whispered against her skin as she wriggled into the open night air.

The hairs on her arm stood up straight as she pushed herself to her feet, a cool wind brushing against her skin.The night was black, the moon only highlighting the closest vicinity. The shadows beyond were unbreachable, writhing with anonymity. Something was tugging at her mind, a persistent nagging. She had the unsourceable but indisputable feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

Yet the path around her, at least as far as she could see, remained empty, and though she kept her ears pricked up, she heard nothing untoward. She looked over her shoulder, into the darkness. There was nothing there, but she shivered as she turned back around quickly.

The closest corner was only about thirty metres away, making a sharp turn to the right. 

Compared to the scope of the entire maze, it was nothing. She was fine. Tentatively she put one foot forward and then the other. The night was still.

 _I'll just walk up there and back_ , she muttered to herself. It was so quiet she could hear the crunch of grass beneath her feet; she heard every time the leaves in the hedges brushed together.

She walked another ten metres and turned to look back at Carmilla.

The tarp really did work well. Even from this relatively close distance Carmilla was well hidden, and to anyone else the lump on the group would appear to be just an extension of the hedge.

Suddenly, she wasn’t thinking of how well the tarp worked, but of its creation, her and Carmilla and LaF and Perry, all working together to camouflage it. Laura squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steer her mind away. She couldn’t think of it now, not with the heavy darkness and constant threat of imminent death, not when she knew the thoughts would only consume her. She felt she had been swinging in and out of madness these past few hours; she was just Laura, trying her best to survive - but then her brain flipped and she was only the ever-raging grief of losing two of her closest friends. Two of the brightest lights she had known, snuffed out in an instant, in less than two days of each other. 

Behind her, something clattered to the ground. The thoughts of LaFontaine and Perry were left abandoned as she whipped around in the direction of the corner, her mind wiped clear with panic, her heart pounding widely. 

There was nothing there.

Or was there?

The shadows ate up everything more than ten metres away from her. Straining her eyes, she took a few steps forward. Was it just her imagination? No, there was definitely something there. A small patch of more solid darkness, the suggestion of an object.

She stepped closer, not daring to let out a single breath. There, about two metres from the turn, a white drink bottle lay on the ground.

So was it the drink bottle that had made the noise, or something else? Her fingers found the hilt of her knife in her pocket, and she gripped it tightly as she made her way towards it. Her limbs felt light as air with apprehension; her head was reeling with awareness. 

She leaned down and hovered her hand over it. Held her breath, and picked it up.

Nothing happened.

Well, it wasn’t a bomb, which eliminated one unlikely possibility. That was good. But how did it end up here?

She turned back once more to check on Carmilla and realised it was so dark, and she had travelled so far, that she couldn't even make out the lump where she should be. It made her slightly fearful; even though she knew she was there, not more than thirty metres away, it was disconcerting to look in her direction and see only empty path, swamped in shadows. That was when it occurred to her she shouldn’t be looking at the drink bottle, or at Carmilla, because the unknown threat was only going to come from one place. But by then it was too late.

Before she could turn back around, something - or someone - barrelled into her and she was sent flying hard into the ground, air knocked out her lungs mercilessly as her head smacked into the ground.

Her eyes were open before her vision was clear; she struggled to see who the assailant was, knowing she had seconds before they struck again. Her hazy mind cleared and the shape above her took focus - it was Elsie, standing over her, panting hard from the effort of tackling Laura to the ground. In her right hand she held a long, curved knife.

Without a second thought, Laura started to scramble backwards on her hands and feet, clambering up and breaking into a run.

She'd taken not three steps before she realised she was leading Elsie straight towards Carmilla. She faltered, torn with uncertainty, and looked back at the corner of the path.

The moment of indecision was enough for Elsie to catch up to her and the girl swung her blade heavily in the direction of Laura's head.

Laura ducked quickly under the swipe with a gasp, and the blade whispered as it sliced through the air above her head. All Laura could think about was how close that sound had been as she used both of her hands to push squarely on Elsie's chest, sending her staggering a few steps backwards. While Elsie was off balance Laura took the opportunity to lunge forward and land a punch, right on the girl's jaw. The blow sent the girl reeling once again - but her back hit the maze wall and she bounced right back, brandishing her blade wildly. It was clear she didn't know how to use it well, but that didn't change the fact that she was holding a deadly weapon, whereas Laura's hands were bare.

Elsie took another swipe at her with the blade. Laura jumped backwards desperately, only thinking about the knife with its deadly edge and its proximity to Laura’s face, and then kicked hard at Elsie's ribs.

There was a splintering crunch as she connected, just as Elsie's blade nicked Laura's outstretched arm.

Laura unwillingly let out a cry of agony and retreated back towards the other wall of the maze. A gash of about three inches had been opened on her forearm and she grasped it tightly. Blood began to leak through her fingers, running down her hand in dark rivulets.

Across from her Elsie was doubled over with one hand holding her broken ribs, but she lifted her head to look through strands of dirty hair at Laura, whose heart faltered.

Elsie moved towards her, her gait slow and agonizing. It was wary; she seemed hesitant to breach the distance between them. There was a intense edge to the way her eyes flitted here and there; from Laura’s face to her hands and back again. Laura realised she was assessing her, looking for a weapon, and then became immediately aware of the knife still in her pocket. Carmilla had, as always, insisted she carry it - _just in case_. She knew this was exactly the kind of situation Carmilla had in mind when she forced Laura to take it. 

She had never wanted to pull her knife out of her pocket less - but it occurred to her that with one useless arm and no way out of this situation, if she didn't kill Elsie right now, she was going to die.

She pressed her back to the hedge wall as Elsie approached. She had only an instant to dodge as Elsie plunged the blade straight at her stomach. She twisted away, then ducked as the knife was sent her way again. Laura dove for Elsie’s legs and sent her tumbling down - then they were rolling, and the knife became silvery slashes against the black night backdrop. Laura scrambled backwards in a tumble of limbs, desperately trying to get out a range of the blade that could slice open her skin at any moment, but Elsie pounced and was suddenly over her, monopolising her vision. 

Elsie’s face was flushed, splotched red and white from their struggle. Sweat stuck her fair hair to her forehead in clumps, mingling with the dirt smeared there from days in the wilderness. Her knees were pressed painfully into Laura, one against her sternum and one digging into her left shoulder. Her hand reached out to collect her blade from where it had fallen, one eye still on Laura to keep her from moving. 

From her trapped position, Laura should have been powerless. But Elsie was so preoccupied with keeping Laura from escaping while she searched for her knife that she’d forgotten to pin Laura’s arms. 

The weight of the knife in Laura’s pocket felt, at that moment, inexplicably heavy. The knowledge of its presence and potential burned a hole through her leg where it rested, demanding it be used. 

Laura brushed quick and careful fingers along her pocket, feeling the razor-sharp edge of the silver resting under the material. As she did, she watched the girl above her, who looked up at that moment; Laura met her wide and frenzied gaze. Elsie’s hand clutched the curved blade, but there was no hint of cruel triumph in her face, no sense that she would enjoy the murder she was about to carry out. Killing Laura was a necessary step for her own survival. In that moment, the two of them had been reduced to predator and prey. Elsie was nothing more than an animal trying to survive - and Laura was nothing more than an obstacle in her way.

But Elsie was not a monster. She was just a girl, like her, and the madness raging in her eyes was not spawned by her. It had been engineered and planted in her by the Capitol. She was just a fellow victim. Laura couldn't be the one to end her life.

Elsie’s hand clenched on the blade.

Laura let her own hand, resting on her pocket holding the knife, drop to the ground, empty. 

_I am going to die_ , Laura thought, as Elsie, breathing hard, raised the blade above her head with both hands. 

But she knew that it was better to die than to become the monster the Capitol wanted her to be. 

Elsie tensed her arms for the plunge and Laura closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the blade coming. 

But she heard, instead of the whistle of an oncoming blade, a groan, and Elsie’s weight shifted. Laura opened her eyes, heart pounding maniacally, to see her body collapse to the ground, a knife lodged in her back.

***

They had lost a lot with the backpack in the tidal wave, but luckily the first aid kit had remained in Laura’s pocket the entire time. She wasn’t sure how else they would staunch the bleeding in her arm from Elsie’s attack, a wound that seemed quite determined to empty Laura’s blood supply. 

Laura had surged into a sitting position after Elsie had slumped off her and onto the ground. She had lifted her eyes to meet Carmilla’s unflinching gaze, to note the two other knives clenched in her hand. They hadn’t been needed, because Elsie didn’t stir and a booming cannon had echoed over their heads a short second later. Carmilla had barely spared the crumpled body a glance as she wrenched her knife out of Elsie's back before transferring her attention to Laura’s arm. She had been woken during Laura and Elsie’s brawl by Laura’s scream and come over to intervene - Laura had apparently been too preoccupied to hear her approach. 

Laura watched numbly as Carmilla examined an antiseptic from their first aid kit, thinking to herself that if Carmilla hadn’t sent that knife hurtling into Elsie, she would be dead right now, impaled by that long, curved blade. 

She had never expected to make it out of the arena alive. She thought she had come to terms with her inevitable death. But she hadn’t wanted to die, as Elsie raised the blade over her head. She hadn’t wanted to kill the girl, but she hadn’t wanted to die either. 

_Not yet, not yet_. It had been all she could think as her eyes had been squeezed shut against the attack. It was still all she could think, even as Elsie lay dead and immobile on the maze path, face crumpled against the ground, eyes still open. 

“How long were you fighting for?” Carmilla glanced up at Laura. They sat cross-legged, facing each other, Carmilla dabbing the antiseptic onto a cotton ball. “Until I killed her?”

“I don’t know. Five minutes? Three minutes? I can’t remember,” Laura answered. She still floundered in a state of shock. It was difficult to form coherent sentences. Her arm stung painfully as Carmilla scraped away the dirt with the cotton ball. 

“You couldn’t wake me up?” 

Laura debated telling her that she had made the split-second decision not to lead Elsie to Carmilla. She wondered how the situation would have played out if she had chosen to run down the path towards Carmilla - Elsie probably would’ve died a minute or so sooner. Unless Carmilla’s sleepy, unaware self had been caught by surprise. Then it might have been Laura cleaning Carmilla’s wounds. Or worse.

Laura cleared her throat. “No. She caught me by surprise. I was walking over there - I couldn’t sleep. She dropped a drink bottle on the ground and I came over to see what it was, then she attacked me.”

“Maybe walking around in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea.” Carmilla glanced up at Laura again. She pulled out a roll of bandages. “Especially if you’re not prepared to fight off any attackers.”

Laura opened her mouth - did Carmilla know about her hesitation? Had she seen Laura’s hand go to her pocket then drop to the ground, empty? 

Carmilla answered her question a heartbeat later. “You had a knife in your pocket. Elsie was holding the blade in both hands.” She pinned Laura with an accusing stare. The unspoken words were clear. _You could have defended yourself and you didn’t. You had the choice between life and death and you chose death._

Laura remained silent. She had no defence. 

“I know you don’t have it in you to kill someone in cold-blood. But there’s a difference between that and self-defence. Would you really let yourself die to avoid killing someone else? Even if they’re trying to kill you?”

Yes. Those exact questions had been chased around her mind like rabbits as she lay under the stars, Elsie’s blade suspended above her. And she had chosen to die. 

Carmilla tightened the bandage and knotted it off. “So you wouldn’t kill for yourself. But what about for me?”

Laura opened her mouth, but Carmilla cut her off. “Your life means more than you think. You’re not the only one who would be affected by your death. If you died, I would be as good as dead, Laura.”

Laura looked at her, the girl she had known for all of a month. A crazy, frenzied month. She had come into it a scared, helpless girl, and now she was emerging at the tail-end as a different person. She had been thrown into this tournament; she had scraped the edges of her mental capacity; she had been forced to examine the very depths of her person, the inner workings that made her herself. She had been forced to rework them, to become a reassembled Laura who bore the grief of her friend’s deaths, who bore the knowledge that her short life was thundering to a close. 

And through all of this, there had always been Carmilla. Sarcastic and pessimistic, but ever-present. And when Laura had watched Carmilla climb the stairs to the stage in District 7, she couldn’t possibly have predicted this. Carmilla, bandaging Laura’s wound and asking her if she would consider saving herself for Carmilla’s sake. Laura, feeling her heart tighten as she thought of all the terrible things Carmilla had been through, and the way she still managed to emerge from her horrendous upbringing as someone capable of … well, _this._

She remembered LaFontaine telling her that District 3 wouldn’t be home without Perry. And now she finally understood, because even though she hadn’t known who Carmilla was before the Games, the Laura she was now could never go home without her. Not really. 

Perhaps, out of all the ways she had changed, the fact that she cared for the girl in front of her with an intensity that made her heart ache was the biggest change of all. 

***

When they finished with Laura’s arm, the sky was still the golden-pink of before dawn, so Carmilla suggested they catch a few more hours of sleep. When she woke up again her arm throbbed insistently; it was still throbbing now, as they trekked through the maze, back to the tunnel entrance they had emerged from the previous day. 

The hedge surrounding the tunnel entrance looked dented; a sloping concave marked the spot where the tunnel opened. The branches had been pulled back from inside the tunnel - the result of their frantic climb out of the tunnel. Only a day ago.

The scene looked different from this side - they approached from the outside, instead of from the depths of the dim tunnel. But it was still markedly the site of LaFontaine’s death; perhaps not right at the tunnel entrance, but somewhere inside. And this was where Laura had realised - when she had felt the crushing weight of grief and knew there was no going back, no returning to a time before LaFontaine’s death. 

She took a steadying breath.

“Alright?” Carmilla asked from where she was crouching at the ruined hedge.

“Fine,” Laura answered tightly. The pain of LaFontaine was like a headache - it hurt even when she didn’t concentrate on it, a constant, persistent, thudding pain. It didn’t need her acknowledgment to probe at her, needle at the back of her mind. And like a headache, she couldn’t make it go away, couldn’t do anything but wait it out. 

“It’s still there,” Carmilla announced, standing up again. Laura peered over her shoulder to see for herself. Sure enough, water still lapped at the brim of the tunnel. Water from the tidal wave, since the water would’ve been long gone by now if it had been back to its regular pattern of filling at night and emptying in the morning. 

“Looks like we’re stuck in here for now,” Carmilla said grimly. 

It could’ve been worse. After all, the last time they had been in the maze, it had been much more populated. Now, it must’ve been almost empty. Danny would probably be hanging at the Cornucopia, even though she was the last remaining Career, Kirsh having died in the same tidal wave that killed LaFontaine. And Will … well, he could be anywhere. They hadn’t seen the elusive tribute for the entire Games. 

With a jolt, Laura realised she had reached the end of the list. Danny, Will, Carmilla, her. The last four.

And if she had realised that, Danny and Will definitely had. She felt intensely vulnerable to think of that - to know that Danny and Will’s next targets would be her and Carmilla. Unless their targets were each other.

For a second, Laura let herself consider a terrifying possibility - Danny and Will somehow managing to kill each other and leaving Carmilla and Laura as the last two in the arena.

Only one tribute could be the Victor. What would happen, if it came to that? What happened when two tributes refused to kill each other?

Laura forced the thought from her mind. Somehow, the thought of her and Carmilla being the last two tributes left in the arena was more uncomfortable to consider than the thought of Danny and Will hunting them down. 

“We shouldn’t linger.” Carmilla interrupted her thoughts. “Danny might be back to check out the tunnel situation as well.”

Laura didn’t know how long they could put off a confrontation with Danny, but she followed Carmilla anyway. 

They set off into the winding maze tunnels. They had walked for almost half as long as it had taken them to get there when their journey was interrupted by the sound of trumpets. 

Laura jolted in surprise. The trumpets were unexpected, but instantly recognisable. They always heralded an announcement. Announcements were uncommon, but normally made an appearance in the Games at some point. Usually to introduce a feast.

She was proved right a moment later as the warm, familiar tones of Richie Branson filled the air around them. She hadn’t heard the clipped Capitol accent in weeks; in fact, she hadn’t heard anyone’s voice in weeks, apart from Carmilla, LaFontaine, Perry and the various tributes they had run into. The bizarrely affected voice made her feel strangely homesick. Maybe it was because she was used to hearing the Capitol voice from her little television in her house in District 7.

“This is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately. Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn - that is, if you are prepared to fight the other remaining tributes for it. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour.”


	17. Chapter 17

The arena fell silent again after the feast announcement, and Laura considered the words still ringing in her ears. “They’ve got something we’re looking for? Not unless they’re going to give us a giant invisibility cloak.” 

Carmilla didn’t meet her eyes. She was staring at the hedge wall in front of her in an unfocused way. Immediately, Laura began to second guess herself, awful thoughts bubbling up. Her mind compiled a quick list of things that Carmilla might be looking for - excluding a large invisibility cloak. They had water - the two drink bottles Laura had managed to hang onto during the disastrous tidal wave; they had weapons - apart from Carmilla’s pack of knives from her sponsors, the axe Laura had snatched from Theo’s dead body was a heavy weight in her hand. They had almost depleted their first aid kit’s supplies - maybe the backpack would contain medicine. But Laura’s arm was healing fine and they had no other injuries between them. They didn’t have food at the moment, but that was nothing a sponsor couldn’t send them, and so Laura didn’t think their shortage warranted the word Richie had used - _desperately_.

There was nothing more they needed - they had survived until now, hadn’t they? If there was indeed something that Carmilla needed but wasn’t confiding with Laura - well, she couldn’t think about that. The thought would only lead to other assumptions she didn’t want to consider.

She had to trust that Carmilla wasn’t hiding anything from her. They were in this together, and Carmilla was all she had. 

“Carm, we’re not going, right?” Laura asked uncertainly. “We don’t need anything. They’re just saying that to lure us in - to bring all the tributes together.”

“You’re probably right,” Carmilla answered, but she appeared distracted, fumbling through her pockets for something. 

“So we’re not going?” Laura asked again. She felt a trickle of anxiety - the way Carmilla was acting since the announcement was unnerving her. There was a newly resolved glint in her eye, and Laura didn’t know what to think of it. 

“Don’t worry about the feast,” Carmilla replied. “It would be a pointless risk. Come on, let’s keep going.”

She fished her compass out of a pocket in her pants and flipped it open. Laura watched the open face of the compass as they walked, remembering the frantic atmosphere of the night not too long ago, the night they had led the Careers in a dangerous hunt through the maze. It was only a few days ago, but each day separating that night from today felt lifetimes long; there were endless minutes between now and the time before Perry and LaFontaine had died in quick succession. 

It was hard to wrap her mind around the fact that they had entered the arena only a week or so ago. Or was it longer? Her time in the arena was a stream of indistinguishable hours, only punctuated by the anthem each night.

That first day had been almost identical to today - wandering the maze with just Carmilla for company. But sandwiched between were several days in which she had encountered so much - the unprecedented arrival of LaFontaine and Perry. Subsequently losing them only a couple of days later. It was like she had come full circle - back in the maze with Carmilla, only this time it was after their brief alliance with LaFontaine and Perry, not before.

Perhaps the hardest thing to accept was the inevitability of it. LaFontaine and Perry had had to die at some point. From the moment they got selected as tributes their fates were sealed. And whether it had been that particular day, in that particular way or not, it would’ve come about in some way or another. 

And the same went for Laura and Carmilla. No matter what, only one of them could make it out of this arena alive. And with only four tributes left it was becoming more and more possible that they would be the last two left. Perhaps that was why, with both Danny and Will surely attending the feast, she was dreading it so much. 

***

As they walked, Laura’s unease slowly ebbed away. They chatted in low voices as the hours passed and the towering walls marched by. Only once did they stop to rest; take a gulp of water each and redress Laura’s arm. 

There had been no further word on the feast from Richie Branson, but Laura couldn’t keep thoughts of tomorrow’s gathering from her mind. Who would show up? She was willing to bet neither Danny or Will would be scared away by the prospect of meeting other tributes - both would back themselves in a fight. Would they take Laura or Carmilla’s backpacks when they didn’t show up? And what would they find in there if they did? Again, that question that she couldn’t answer but couldn’t stop thinking about. _Water, weapons, food._ She ran through the list again. It had to be food. Their prospects were looking grimmer and grimmer as the day went on. With no access to the land outside the maze, they were completely cut off from any food supply. 

And what about the other tribute’s backpacks? What did they need so desperately? Maybe one had been injured and needed medicine, or maybe they were thirsty or starving, now that everyone was cut off from the tunnels. Then again, with Will’s mother being who she was, he should have received ample supplies from sponsors. She doubted that he needed something as simple as food or water. 

Perhaps what he needed was a chance to finally confront Laura and Carmilla, after they’d managed to avoid him the entire Games. She had no doubt that the fact that they were yet to run into each other was due to Laura and Carmilla’s constant moving rather than his lack of will to find them.

Maybe what he needed wasn’t anything in a backpack, but was the actual feast itself. 

Out of nowhere, a shout of pain from behind her split the air. A bolt of fear shot down Laura’s spine as she whipped around to face a sight that made her blood run cold. 

Carmilla was on her knees, in a headlock. Her head was tilted back, in a grimace of pain. The arm around her neck like a vice was scuffed, dirty and trembling with exertion. Danny Lawrence stood over her. Danny Lawrence, who she had just been thinking about. Danny Lawrence, who Laura had assumed was far away, staying in the vicinity of the Cornucopia, nowhere near Laura and Carmilla.

Laura staggered into a state of shock - she simply couldn’t comprehend Danny’s sudden appearance. A moment ago the maze had been empty save for her and Carmilla. Now, Danny was here, as if she had materialised out of thin air, hair matted on one side, an ugly cut scissoring down the side of her face, her cargo pants torn to shreds over her knees.

She gathered her strewn-around thoughts together with effort and found she was still frozen to the spot, stock-still as Danny grinned manically at her. It was a terrifying sneer, one that Laura couldn’t have imagined manifesting on Danny’s face a few short weeks ago in the Training Centre. She had the distinct feeling that the person she saw before her had been born in the Arena, not District One. It was the same feeling of looking into Elsie’s eyes as the girl held a blade over her head and knowing with certainty that, before the Games, the same girl wouldn’t have been capable of doing what she was doing. 

“Told you that you were making a mistake, Hollis.” Danny sneered at her. The sword she always carried was tucked in its sheath at her belt. Well within her reach. Below her, Carmilla’s cheeks were coloured a blotchy red as she strained helplessly, but it was futile; Danny’s sneak attack from behind had left them both completely exposed. 

“You should’ve joined me back in the training hall﹘” Danny panted with the effort of keeping Carmilla still and kneed her sharply in the back. Laura winced with vicarious pain as she did so but her legs remained frozen. “﹘when I so graciously offered for you to join us. It didn’t have to come to this. Now look what you’ve made me do. I’m so close. I’ll kill your stupid girlfriend here first, then I’ll kill you and that’ll leave only the District 4 boy left. Once I finish him I’ll finally, finally be the champion.” The last word was almost swallowed in a gasp - of exultation, maybe, from imagining the feeling of finally ending these few weeks of struggle. It was ignorant, perhaps, but she had never considered that Danny Lawrence, who seemed to be in her element in the arena, might want to go home just as desperately as Laura.

All the while Danny spoke, Carmilla kept her eyes trained on Laura. She kneeled seconds away from death, terror raging in her expression, but was utterly silent. The intensity of her stare kept Laura rooted to the spot. It was desperate and pleading. It was trying to send Laura a message, but she didn’t have a clue what Carmilla Carmilla was trying to say. 

Laura was flooded with hopelessness as the truth of Danny’s monologue and the gravity of the situation hit her fully. Carmilla was unarmed and helpless, and Laura had no idea how to help.

Keeping her left arm tight around Carmilla’s neck, Danny reached for her sword, locking one hand on the hilt. The resulting surge of panic was enough to spur Laura into action - she stepped forward, feeling hyper aware of every movement she made. She could feel the clothes on her back, she could feel the sweat on the back of her neck and she could feel the coolness of the air, whispering against her empty palm. The axe she’d dropped lay by her feet, and her eyes flicked over it, the blade buried in the grass where she’d dropped it in surprise. 

Suddenly she knew exactly what she had to do. 

Danny glanced up quickly, her hand tightening around the sword hilt. “Stay right there, Hollis. I want you to watch as I kill her.”

Laura knew a single second of sadness as she remembered herself boarding the train to the Capitol, weeks and weeks ago. She had had such resolution, such steadfast values. Was she the same way now, or had the Capitol’s sickening Games finally taken root in her, grown a monster she had been trying so hard to resist inside her? 

Laura wanted to believe she was still the same girl on the train, still brave enough to do what was right. She had been brave enough to admit at her interview that she would refuse to kill, even if it meant she was sealing her own fate. The only difference now was that her perceptions of wrong and right were no longer cleanly defined - they were murky and many-faceted, they were ever-adapting and changeable. She didn’t know what was the right thing to do in this situation, or if there even was a right thing to do, but she knew what she had to do. 

She took a deep breath. “I can’t let you do that.” 

The axe’s handle pointed towards her invitingly. With one lightning movement, it was in her hand and her arm was cocked back and ready to throw. 

Laura saw a ripple of anxiety of Danny’s face - a reaction to her sudden movement. But it was gone a second later. “Oh, come on. You’re not fooling me with that. We all heard your interview, Hollis. You couldn’t kill someone if your own life depended on it. Which it does. And so does hers, incidentally.” She flashed a taunting grin at Laura as she tightened her grip on Carmilla. She raised her sword into the air. 

In a single frozen moment, Laura felt everything with dazzlingly clarity. She felt the smooth surface of the axe handle on her callused palm as she held it in the air. She saw the flicker of genuine worry on Danny’s face, the calculation. Danny had Carmilla, and a sword. Laura had the axe and the opportunity. She knew that Danny was banking on the fact that Laura wouldn’t dare risk attacking Danny, not when Danny held Carmilla’s life in her hands. If Laura moved, Danny would kill Carmilla.

But if she didn’t move, Danny would kill Carmilla anyway.

Before she could react, Laura flung the axe towards Danny Lawrence with all her might.

In the space of a moment, Danny was on her knees. Laura’s aim had been unfaltering. The head of the axe had plunged into her skin, right over the heart. Carmilla shrugged easily out of her grip, stumbling to her feet.

Around her, the world went still. The only thing she could see was Danny’s body, now on her side but still breathing. And Carmilla, a few feet away, face white, eyes wide, but alive. 

Danny’s breaths became laboured. Laura felt her senses shutting down one by one as she retreated into a far corner of her mind. She was numb and unfeeling. 

She was staring at the slowly-dying form of a person she had just fatally injured. And now she was watching her die. Watching, and waiting. It seemed the most unnatural and incomprehensible thing, to watch a person slowly choke out their last breaths of air and do nothing.

At long last, a cannon fired into the otherwise silent air. Laura almost sobbed with relief - it was over, she was dead, not dying, not torturing Laura with each struggling breath. It was over, and it was just beginning. She had done what she said she would never do. She had chosen the path there was no turning back from. 

“I killed her,” Laura said numbly. “I killed her.”

“You did what you had to do,” Carmilla said simply. She stood, arms hanging by her sides, still deathly pale. 

“I killed her,” Laura repeated. It seemed to be the only three words she could say. It wasn’t enough - she needed to articulate how she felt cleaved open on the inside. She needed to explain that a fundamental part of her had shrivelled up and died. There were no words to vocalise the way her sense of self was tearing apart and sewing itself back together painfully. 

“We need to find shelter,” Carmilla said. “It’s okay, Laura. It’s done now.” She grabbed her hand with one hand, and her upper arm with the other. “Come on.” 

***

“Home sweet home,” Carmilla announced, spreading the tarp over Laura’s outstretched legs. She plopped down next to her, their backs resting against the hedge. Laura stared unseeingly at the opposite hedge. Her entire body felt numb and empty, as though her soul had died the same moment Danny did.

Carmilla took Laura’s forearm in her hands, and unwrapped the bloodied bandage, her fingers gentle but firm. She dabbed at the cut with a swab, then pulled a new bandage from the medical kit and worked on wrapping it around Laura’s arm again.

“You know, in the Capitol when people are upset they eat chocolate, it’s meant to cheer you up,” she commented idly as she concentrated. “I can’t believe we never tried any during training, you’d love it. They make all different flavours, mint, strawberry, caramel, hazelnut﹘”

“Stop.” Laura spoke finally. “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.”

“Come on.” Carmilla ran her hands over the newly fastened bandage and gave her shoulder a nudge. “Do you really think whatever deep dark you’ve got going on in there is enough to scare off someone like me?”

“I killed her.”

“Yeah, not really complaining over here.” 

“No, you don’t understand. It’s more than just that. I mean, she had you in a headlock. You were going to die.”

“I know,” Carmilla said. “You saved me.”

“But I killed her. And I didn’t even care. All I was thinking about was you dying, and I didn’t care what I did to Danny to stop it.”

“Laura.” Carmilla spoke softly. Her words were almost lost in the night. “We all aspire to be good people. We all want to be people who are perfect in every way. But we make mistakes, and we have to make allowances. You can’t always do what’s right. Sometimes there just isn’t a right thing to do. And then you just have to do the best thing you can. It would be nice if we could always do the right thing. But sometimes you can’t, and if you can’t, then that’s okay.”

Laura’s throat was prickling with unshed tears, and when she spoke, her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Carmilla reached forward, gently, and tucked Laura’s hair behind her ear. “I do.”

***

Hours later, the sound of a cannon jolted Laura awake. 

She gasped into a sitting position, the tarp sliding off her onto the ground. The sky around her was the pierced gold of dawn. Her heart thumped urgently under the cold weight of something resting against her chest. 

Carmilla was gone, and her locket hung around Laura’s neck.


	18. Chapter 18

White hot panic coursed through Laura as she stumbled to her feet, her haste almost sending her careening into the hedge. The cannon still echoed through the thin air around her. She whipped her head from side to side, her terror increasing with every wasted second that passed. She had to move. There was no time for thinking. 

She pounded down the maze path. Shreds of the dream she had been awoken from by the cannon still clung to her mind. A dream of a memory. The memory of Carmilla and her, only a few days ago, had found its way into her sleeping mind. 

She saw Carmilla in her mind, hazy with dreamlike quality as she ran. She was seeing two Carmillas - the clearly defined Carmilla of the memory and the not-quite-there Carmilla of the dream. In both she sat with knees up to her chest, fingers on her locket. The same locket that was now thudding against Laura’s chest with her every step, beating against it with a regular rhythm like a second heart. Her turns had unwittingly taken a direction. She had no idea where she was headed right now, but as long as she kept going in one direction, she had the best chance of making it out of the maze. 

“Where would you go, if we got out of here?” She had asked Carmilla a few days ago, then asked again in the dream-memory. “If you could just leave and go anywhere in the world?” 

“I’d go with you,” Carmilla had answered, eyes scrunched up against the sun and lips scrunched up in a smile. 

“What does that mean?”

Carmilla had considered her answer for a moment, and then spoke slowly. “There is no one spot I need to see. As long as I was with you I’d be happy. We could travel anywhere and everywhere, never staying in the same place twice.” She had paused for a moment, her voice wistful. “Where would you go?”

Laura had huffed. “You can’t answer like that!”

“Why not?” 

“Because! How am I meant to follow that? _Oh, that’s lovely, Carm, but personally I’d go to District 4 to see the ocean!_ ”

Now, Laura was still running, still seeing only hedge walls around her, and all she could hear was Carmilla’s laugh echoing in her mind in reply. She could feel the ghost of Carmilla’s fingers as she traced them up and down Laura’s arm absentmindedly. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she’d said. “So, what’s your real answer? I want to know.”

For some reason the present Laura felt tears pricking as she remembered her reply. I’d go home. The poor conditions she’d always lived in there didn’t matter. She couldn’t leave the people there. Whatever happened, she would want to return and help. Whatever that meant. She would march all the way to the Capitol herself and demand better treatment if that’s what it would take.

“The Districts are past help, Laura. The Capitol’s corrupt,” Carmilla had responded. 

“I know, but what can you do but try?”

The path she was running down took a sharp right turn. It was the only way to go. She hurtled around the corner, onto a long, straight path and - it couldn’t be. The end of the path opened into broad plains and warm sunlight. The clearing.

Like fireworks, everything exploded into clarity. This was why Carmilla had been using the compass yesterday, after the feast was announced. Not to lead them away from the feast, but rather to lead them straight to it. This was why they had run into Danny; they had strode right into her territory. This was the source of Laura’s unease, the strange, unplaceable sense that Carmilla had been keeping something from her.

Carmilla had been planning this, from the moment they were told about the feast. Maybe even longer.

It made the memory of the dream sting. Had she known what she was going to do when they talked longingly about leaving the arena together? 

Of course, Laura had known the idea wasn’t realistically possible. But she hadn’t expected Carmilla to give up. She, Laura, hadn’t given up yet, had she? She had clung foolishly to the idea that there might be a way, in a different time, in a different world, where they didn’t meet under such hopeless circumstances. Where their entire time of knowing each other wasn’t shadowed by their oncoming deaths. And Laura had stupidly let it distract from the truth - that there was no way Laura and Carmilla could both live. One of them had to die. And Carmilla had taken that decision into her own hands.

Laura’s breathing was ragged, but she kept running, faster than before, if it was even possible. The hedge walls flashed past on either side of her, that rectangle of sunlight and boundless plains growing bigger and bigger, but so slowly. Still so far away. The locket bounced frantically, smacking against her collarbone sharply, each hit screaming at her to go _faster_. She remembered Carmilla’s whispered confession, back in the Training Centre during their impromptu midnight feast - _I have to give it back to Mattie_ \- as her feet pounded the grass. _Why, then?_ Laura thought with desperate confusion. _Why did you go to the feast? Why did you leave the locket?_

The locket was around her neck now. If she was pronounced Victor, it would leave the Arena with her. Maybe when Carmilla said that she had to bring it back, she hadn’t meant herself personally. Maybe she just had to make sure it came back one way or another, in case she didn’t make it out herself.

And now Laura had the locket and it couldn’t have been more clear. Carmilla had gone to die. 

She burst into the open field. A short distance away, the ring of trees reached to the sky, tall and ominous. In the centre stood the shimmering golden Cornucopia. A huge hovercraft was poised over the scene - it must have just picked up the fallen tribute. As soon as the thought occurred to Laura, the monstrous vehicle vanished, leaving the clearing quiet and still, exactly as it had been on the day they first entered the Arena.

The same - except for the table that was now directly in front of the Cornucopia with three backpacks perched on top. One was clean, a muted orange colour with the number 4 printed clearly on it. Its walls sagged inward, collapsing in on themselves, indicating its contents were either very small or non-existent. The second was green with a black 7. Like the first, it looked untouched, but unlike the first, it was plump, seams stretching as it threatened to burst open. The final backpack sat dirty and unzipped, the fluro yellow colour of it almost buried under the layers of grime, burns marks scorched across it. It was LaFontaine’s backpack, exactly as it had been the last time they had seen it - except for the newly printed number 7 on its front.

Nothing but the three bags sat on the table. The surrounding area was undisturbed - except for the blood. Blood was splattered heavily on the table, and coated the grass. It created great, swirling patterns across the ground, describing a bloody, desperate fight.

And a few feet from the table, someone was crumpled in a lifeless heap. Without needing to move closer, without needing to see for herself the colourless face or the empty eyes, Laura knew who it was. Carmilla lay on the ground, eyes closed and unmoving.

A second cannon fired.


	19. Chapter 19

The world ceased to exist.

The trees, the enormous hedge, all shrunk into nothingness. There was only Laura and the broken form of Carmilla. She lay on her back with her head tilted towards the sky, eyelids closed and fingers loosely curled. She might have been sleeping, if not for the fact that her chest didn’t move, she lay utterly still, and the sound of the cannon still rang through the air.

Laura couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t understand how the seconds kept passing by as she stood still and Carmilla didn’t get up. 

The blood rushing in Laura’s ears wasn’t enough to block out the sounds of her own screams. She staggered forward on legs that didn’t belong to her anymore. She was begging internally and pleading out loud, for Carmilla to open her eyes, for her to move, for her to do anything to make this untrue.

The trumpets of victory blared through the air, providing a soundtrack as her numb legs carried her to Carmilla’s fallen body. She crumpled to her knees on the grass and stared at the face before her. The face she had seen twisted in mirth, in annoyance, in concentration and in joy. Now, not even a flicker of movement crossed it. It was as still as the air around them. 

Blood rushed through her head; a roar slowly filling her skull. It grew, coursing with horror that increased every second. It poured out of Laura, out of every pore. She was screaming, as her fingers clenched fistfuls of grass, as she shook Carmilla’s shoulders, as she rocked back and forth. But she couldn’t drown out the noise in her mind. 

She couldn’t look at Carmilla lying dead before her, but she couldn’t look away either.

An enormous black shadow rippled over the grass. She looked up to see a hovercraft suspended in the air above her, and her panic increased ten-fold. 

A speaker crackled from somewhere above her, and then Richie Branson’s voice boomed through the arena, reaching every house in the country and chilling Laura to the core.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Thirty-Third Hunger Games, Laura Hollis!”

A door in the belly of the hovercraft opened and a ladder descended slowly. 

“No!” Laura seized Carmilla’s arm in panic, already seeing the next few moments play out in her mind. They would force her onto the ladder, into the depths of that hovercraft. Then that claw would emerge and pluck up Carmilla’s body, to be taken away to a different compartment of the hovercraft. Then they would fix up Laura and wipe her scars clean and brush her hair and take her back to the Capitol and she would never see Carmilla again, in death or in life. 

“No! _No!_ ” She screamed, voice raw. “Carmilla, please, _please!_ ”

She shook her shoulders hard. Carmilla’s head lolled from side to side like a ragdoll, her face slack and expressionless. Her skin was drawn; stretched tight across her cheekbones and purple veins stood out starkly under her eyes. The roar of the hovercraft enveloped her. Air whipped the grass flat against the ground as the ladder descended lower still. She could hear short snatches of voices from inside the hovercraft.

“Please,” Laura whispered. She collapsed onto Carmilla’s chest, hot tears slipping down her face. 

Something stung her sharply on the back of her neck.

***

When she woke again, she was greeted by an offensively white room, and a Capitol nurse. 

It all came back with every thud of her head. The deserted plain - Carmilla’s body in front of the table. The hovercraft’s shadow swallowing her up. A stinging pain in her neck. Then blackness.

The memories were dream-like and fractured. They had happened to someone else. The screams that ripped her throat, the dirt under her fingernails and the uprooted grass in her fists - they were someone else’s memories. 

Her head lolled softly to the side and she stared at the grey bar bordering her bed. She watched the thin white reflection of light on it until her sense of consciousness pooled into a liquid state, until she could almost believe that the past few hours hadn’t happened to her. 

A faint beeping registered. A heart monitor stood to the left of her bed. She watched it dully for a few beeps. She felt sterile white inside; her heart was a machine, pumping out an equal dose of grief and pain every second. It was unchanging - every second hurt just as much as the last, because Carmilla was still dead for every second that went by, and Laura still couldn’t recognise that kind of reality. She felt immune to it, the unending thud of her head that told her Carmilla was gone. It all sank away from her numb mind, until she was just left with a deep, scouring grief. 

“Where is she?” When she spoke, her voice was a hoarse, scratchy rasp. 

The nurse half-turned, lips pursed. She didn’t answer.

“Where is she?” Laura tried again. _Beep. Beep._ No answer. “I want to see her.”

“You need to rest for now,” the Nurse replied tersely. She was warding Laura off. She wouldn’t take her to see Carmilla.

_Beep. Beep._ “Please,” Laura got out. And suddenly, she was back in the arena staring into Carmilla’s lifeless face with tears soaking her face. _Please._ “I need to see her.” _Beep. Beep. Beep._

“You need rest.” More firmly this time. A disapproving glance accompanied the words. 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Laura looked at the thin, rod-shaped fluorescent lights on the ceiling until they blurred in a pool of tears. She wouldn't see Carmilla again.

_Beep beep beep beep._ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Nurse glance at the heart monitor. She didn’t care. 

_Beep beep beep beep._ Let it go faster. Let it go until her heart pumped out all the blood it had and Laura could finally, finally, leave this mortal plane. _Beep beep beep beep._

Laura’s neck felt hot. Her cheeks burned. _Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep._ The thudding in her head increased, solidifying, until it was deafening. Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep. 

Suddenly she registered a tickle of coolness. Her veins swelled, like they were filled with more liquid than before. An airy lightness filled her from top to toe and she had just enough time to hear the heart monitor slow down before the white room disappeared in a cloud of black. 

***

The bed beneath her was soft and comforting, pulling her further and further down. When she looked up she saw tall, polished walls and an ornate dresser. When she walked out, she saw a breakfast-laden dining table and Amanda’s face, caught in passionate conversation.

The Training Centre was at once comforting and harrowing. The place she had met the people most dearest to her. The place she had been imprisoned and waited for death.

The elevator ride was fast, too fast - because she wasn’t really here. She was separated, eternally, by the veil of sleep. Only in a dream like this could she see the Training Centre again.

Then she was going up, not down. Up and up, until the stars blinked at her from every side. A moonlit black piano stood regally before her. 

Carmilla was seated at the piano, her face alive with concentration. Her fingers slid expertly over the keys, her lashes lowered. Laura at once saw her from the middle of the room and from the seat next to her, where she had sat in the present time of this memory.

“I have to bring it back for Mattie,” Carmilla confessed to Laura as she stared at the broad expanse of stars. “I have to bring it back.”

They were in the glass room, seated at an enormous piano. They were at the dining table, swapping quick glances full of meaning. They were riding a chariot between screaming crowds. They were standing on a stage in District 7, under the hot sun.

They were in the Training Centre, two corners of a square. Perry and LaFontaine completed the shape. Laura was both achingly sad and jubilantly happy to see their faces. 

“It’s a serum which slows down your heartbeat to one beat per minute,” LaFontaine said excitedly. Their face lit up with the words, restless with the elation of sharing their ideas with the others.

“Why on earth would anyone use that?” Carmilla replied scathingly. From where she sat Laura observed her profile. The curve of her sharp nose, the arch of her eyebrow. 

LaFontaine laughed. “To play dead, of course.” 

***

Laura sat bolt upright, tangled in bedsheets. The dream vanished in a flicker of a second - she was back in her hospital room in the hovercraft, silent but for the ticking of the clock and the beeping of the heart monitor.

But she remembered. She remembered dreaming - of Carmilla, of LaFontaine, of Perry. Of that day in the Training Hall when LaFontaine had shared their inventions. She remembered the serum, the clear glass bottle, shining under the Training Centre lights. She remembered the parachute floating down to LaFontaine in the arena, LaFontaine cracking it open to reveal a nest of glass bottles and tubes. The serum among them, that tiny bottle of clear liquid. She remembered handing LaFontaine their backpack just minutes before they lost both the backpack and LaFontaine in the flooded tunnels. She remembered the very same backpack on the table at the feast.

Laura remembered.

***

The clip-clop of heels reached her. Laura lay back down immediately, trying to be as motionless as possible. Her heart thudded, her skin tingled and her cheeks were flushed. She heard the door slide open in a hiss and the heels clicking into the room. Laura peeked a glimpse out of one eye to see the back of a nurse tapping away at a small device in her hands. Laura snapped her eyes shut again, and after a few minutes, heard the women’s heels clicking out of the room. When she dared sneak another look, she was alone. 

The tubes connecting her to a machine by her bedside all looked very important and life-saving. Laura ripped them out anyway, and when she didn’t die within five seconds, she started looking around the room.

Her bed was the main feature, stranded in the middle of the room like an island in a sea. It was surrounded by hunching machines with many wires and tubes between them. They were the boats, docking at the island. A very complicated and busy island for only one person. Unfortunately, that person had things to do other than lie on an island all day.

There were no windows to show what lay outside her room. The only illumination came from thin lights on the ceiling. A silver shelf ran along the wall, littered with a blinking tablet and a few surgical instruments. Small scalpels and syringes. Strange that they had left her in the room with them, considering they would want her very much alive when she made her appearance in the Capitol. Perhaps they hadn’t expected her to wake so soon.

She was dressed in a thin, white, linen shift. The armholes were wide, and the material fell to her knees. Her hair was unbound, but soft. It brushed against her neck with silky smoothness. Her skin felt smooth as well - she brushed a hand up and down her arm, then rubbed her hands together. They were oddly slick. When she opened her palms, she found them empty of the calluses that had marked them since she first started work in District 7. The wound on her arm, courtesy of Elsie, was gone as well. Her arm was completely unmarked, as if it had never met Elsie’s knife. 

Her body was still hers, yet it wasn’t. The change went deeper than her skin. It was her bones, her nerve endings. They were disconnected, unfeeling. It was like she had severed a cord in her brain, cut off all rational emotion entirely. Her body was a wasteland of constant, raging anguish. It was like a wildfire, burning and furious. It ate her up from the inside out.

The heat made her numb. She progressed from thought to thought stiffly, each one more overbearing than the last. Her brain struggled to hide the thought from her - _don’t think about it, don’t think about it_ \- but she couldn’t ignore a truth this big. Not when this truth was the death of Carmilla, not when it would never, ever be untrue.

Unless. If Laura was right, if the half-formed idea in her mind was correct - she couldn’t let herself think about it. Because if she was proved wrong the second loss would be so much worse than the first. She couldn’t break the surface of the water and be pushed right back under. She wouldn’t resurface the next time. 

Hesitantly, she took a shaky step, testing out her legs. They held, though only just. She continued to the doorway, where she paused with a hand on the frame. 

She strained her ears for any kind of sound, but the hovercraft was silent. Only the machines behind her continued their diligent beeping, attempting to monitor their runaway patient. She poked her head into the hall and found it empty. 

In a cruel sort of irony, the metal halls were reminiscent of the maze they were leaving behind. Narrow paths, enclosed, no indication of which way led where. She swallowed down a brief surge of instinctual panic. 

For no particular reason she chose left, and padded down the hall as silently as she could manage, the shiny metal floor cool and foreign on her bare feet. On the right hand side of the wall she came to a sliding door, with no signs or window. Creeping closer, she pressed her ear to the door. Voices filtered through from the other side and her heart squeezed. She continued on as quickly and silently as she could. The corridor took a sharp turn to the right and she peeked around - no one there. She did the same at the next corner, this time to the left. The halls were still empty.

Tense with anticipation, she almost jumped out of her skin when a set of glass double doors slid open with a hiss as she passed by. 

She froze, but no one emerged, and the doors only revealed a set of staircases, one up and one disappearing into the floor below. Just how massive was this hovercraft?

She hurried through the doors onto the landing and the doors shut behind her. In the dimness of the stairwell, her heart pumped loudly in her ears. Up or down? There was no way to tell what was waiting at the end of either staircase. A second later, her mind was made up for her as the sounds of voices reached her - echoing down the stairwell from above. Taking the downward-leading stairs, her bare feet slippery on the cool steps, she noticed the air getting colder and the passageway growing dimmer, the walls a dull grey rather than a glinting white. The first door she came across was small, no taller than her shoulder, and imbedded in the wall with a metal wheel for a handle. 

There was silence from inside, so she tugged at the wheel and it opened with a groan to reveal … a storage compartment. Nothing but a pile of boxes, a few brooms and some medical supplies. With a sigh, she pulled the door shut again and set off back along the corridor. Every so often she came across another door, but they were all either empty or locked. Finally, after she had reached yet another fork and taken a path at random, beginning to wonder if she was in fact walking in circles, she came to a dead end. 

A thin door waited at the end of the hall with a small screen sitting above it, right below the ceiling. A red seven flickered. 

Laura’s heartbeat skyrocketed, her feet suddenly glued to the floor. 

It took almost five seconds for her to even make a move, to take the first steps towards the door. She could feel the journey thundering to a close and her veins thrummed with the knowledge that this was it. Soon she would know for sure; soon there would be no turning back from the truth. She wanted to run towards the door and wrench it open, and she also wanted to stand still and put the moment off forever.

She reached the door, stretched out a hand. The door slid open at her touch. 

The room was dark grey and dimly lit. A single bed stood in the center and Laura could see the outline of a body. It didn’t move, didn’t rise and fall, but the curves of the silhouette were unmistakeable. Laura approached the bedside and looked down at Carmilla’s sickly white face, her dark lips and loose waves a stark contrast to her bloodless skin. 

“Oh my God, Carm,” she breathed. 

She fumbled for Carmilla’s wrist, her shaking hands making the task impossibly harder. 

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” she murmured pleadingly as she pressed her fingers over the veins under Carmilla’s wrist. 

She held her fingers there for one second, two seconds, holding her breath. 

Carmilla’s wrist was cold and lifeless under her fingers. Three seconds, four seconds.

On the fifth second, she felt her blood stutter.

***

Stretched out next to Carmilla on the bed, Laura watched her unmoving profile. She hadn’t woken up yet, but Laura was content to wait. The knowledge that Carmilla would wake up at some point was enough to sustain her. 

Although, LaFontaine had said there was a fifty percent chance of death, but Laura firmly told herself that if Carmilla hadn’t died yet, she was sure to wake up soon.

She rolled onto her side, facing Carmilla. Her body ached, the strain on her muscles from the events of the past few days finally catching up to her, but she felt weightless with joy. 

She kept one hand resting on Carmilla’s wrist, the beat of her pulse comforting Laura. The intervalsey were stretched out, but slowly, slowly, becoming shortefaster.

It had been the most horrible hurricane of emotion - from the moment she woke up with Carmilla’s locket around her neck it had been like a whirlwind - of grief, ofr terror, of pain. Of stretching the limits of her emotional capacity to breaking point.

And now, now the storm was almost over. Just a little bit longer to endurego. Laura was happy to wait it out.

As Carmilla’s pulse grew stronger and the shadows in the room grew deeper, Laura’s eyelids fluttered closed.

***

When she woke up she could hear the sound of footsteps running back and forth on distant corridors overhead, searching frantically for their missing victor. She slipped off the bed and crept to the door, watching out the slim window for any sign of movement. 

There was a rattling breath from behind her, and then a cough. 

Laura whirled around just in time to see Carmilla hoist herself into a sitting position with a groan.

“Woah, that was a kick.” 

Laura was across the room in a flash, tackling Carmilla with a hug so hard she nearly sent them both tumbling off the bed. Waves of pounding relief hit her over and over again, filling her to the brim until she was overflowing with it.

She heard Carmilla gasp softly with what could have either been laughter or pain, and she pulled back quickly, scrambling to her feet.

“Are you hurt? It looks like maybe you’re hurt, and I’m sorry I hugged you so hard when you’re hurt it’s just that - you were dead! And now you’re not and﹘” the rest of the sentence died in her throat as Carmilla rose silently from the bed to stand in front of her, her eyes never leaving Laura’s. With a gulp, she tried to distract herself from the sudden proximity with more words tumbling from her mouth. “And I know that you probably just want to rest right now, it’s just that﹘” 

Carmilla kissed her, her hands cupping Laura’s face and tangling in her hair, and Laura forgot what she was supposed to be saying, forgot the entire English language as Carmilla’s lips pressed against hers. 

When Carmilla pulled back slightly to gauge Laura’s reaction, Laura nearly tripped over herself in her haste to chase after her. She gripped under Carmilla’s shoulders and kissed her back, feeling Carmilla smile against her. 

She thought her heart was going to pound right out of her chest. 

Her hands fell to rest on Carmilla’s waist, and when she opened her eyes she found Carmilla staring back at her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her lips parted and most importantly - her eyes. Dancing with life. 

“So,” Laura grinned, light-headed and giddy, “how the hell are we going to get out of here?”


	20. Epilogue

“More potatoes, Laura?”

Laura eyed the unappealing pile of yellow goop her Dad was holding out to her, dark specks sprinkled through it.

As the Victor of the 33rd Hunger Games, Laura and her father now possessed, as well as a new house in the Victor’s Village, an unprecedented abundance of food. With an endless supply of ingredients now within his reach, Laura’s dad had decided to experiment with his usually restricted cooking. Gone were the days of scraped together meals. Now it was proscuitto wrapped fillets and tortellini with white wine sauce. Unfortunately, they had all very quickly discovered that Mr Hollis was not a gifted chef. Everyone, that was, except for Mr Hollis himself. 

Not wanting to hurt his feelings, Laura squeaked out a non-committal response which Mr Hollis apparently interpreted as a ‘yes’, because he proceeded to scoop hearty amounts of the slop onto Laura’s plate. Actually, to say Mr Hollis wasn’t exactly a gifted chef was putting it very kindly. He was nothing short of terrible, and this particular disaster appeared to be regular mashed potatoes, only left to boil much too long, and with half the spice cabinet dumped in them. Which was a thing, apparently - spice cabinets, that is. This recipe of mashed potatoes was definitely _not_ , and would never, be a thing, and was for some inexplicable reason paired with a pasta dish, which only served to confuse Laura’s tastebuds even more. 

“Carmilla?” Mr Hollis asked, shifting the potatoes to be within reach of the girl at Laura’s side, whose eyes widened in horror. 

“I couldn’t be sure I have room,” Carmilla tried, watching the bowl with an expression that suggested she expected the contents might jump out and attack her at any moment.

“Nonsense!” Mr Hollis insisted happily, heaping up Carmilla’s plate until it matched Laura’s. 

Carmilla turned her eyes to Laura’s, pleading with her, and Laura had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. 

“It’s not that bad,” Laura whispered. 

Carmilla’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head at this, and she opened her mouth as if to very loudly disagree.

“You girls are still much too thin,” Mr Hollis continued, interrupting and effectively saving Carmilla from herself. 

“We’re fine, Dad.” Under the table, Laura gave Carmilla’s knee a small reassuring squeeze, and Carmilla grudgingly closed her mouth. “You worry too much.”

“Can you blame me?” he sighed, and then frowned and fell silent, no doubt thinking of Laura leaving him again later that afternoon. 

She was down to just over three hours now. Three hours, and she would be taken away on a train once again, not to see her father or Carmilla until she returned from the tour. Her stomach was beginning to tighten with dread. Unless that was the potatoes.

Although it wasn’t just leaving Carmilla and her father that worried her. Laura had to admit that she was mildly terrified for the Victory Tour. She would’ve thought something like this would be easy compared to surviving the Hunger Games, yet her fear was growing each day.

She was scared of going back on the train. That train had carried her to the Capitol all those long weeks ago when she had been reaped. That had been her passage to a death she had only narrowly escaped.

She was scared of the Capitol. She hadn’t been bothered by it the first time she had stayed there during preparation for the Games. But now the thought of going back to the place where she and the twenty-three other tributes had lived together made her sick. Twenty-two of them were dead. LaFontaine and Perry among them. 

Most of all, she was scared of going to District Three. Over the past few weeks she had found herself lying awake in the early hours of morning, wondering how she would look into the faces of LaFontaine and Perry's parents. They would be present at the District 3 celebration - in fact, there would be a stage erected for them especially for them. How could she meet their eyes, the parents of two of her best friends in the world, who were now dead?

Maybe not from her hands directly. But she couldn’t deny that she had played a part in it. Perhaps that was the worst of what she gone through. Yes, she was alive. Yes, she was back in District 7. But would she ever be able to go a day without wondering what she could’ve done differently? She could’ve stayed behind with LaFontaine - taken the backpack from them - got them into the tunnels earlier. She could’ve kept Perry out of the fight. She could’ve kept holding on to her hand - that single, crucial moment cut into her mind the most. If only she hadn’t let her fingers slip out of her hand. 

Infinite possibilities, spiralling deeper and deeper in Laura’s mind. But in the end, they all circled around to the same conclusion. Despite both Laura and Carmilla escaping the arena, there was no way, no loophole, that would’ve allowed all four of them to make it out alive.

Could she squeeze all of that into a single look? Could she catch Perry or LaF’s parents’ eye, from across the crowd and tell them?

 _I’m so sorry. I tried to save your child and I couldn’t._

Twelve Districts, plus the Capitol. She just had to make it through twelve Districts and the Capitol, then the tour would be over and she could return home. 

Her time was ticking. Less than three hours to go.

In the beginning, Carmilla had spent most of her time at Laura’s house, but her visits had been becoming less and less frequent lately, since preparations for the Victory Tour had begun in earnest and Laura’s house had been flooded with Capitol stylists, escorts, designers and other officials, none of whom could Laura allow to catch even a glimpse of Carmilla.

So far, their cover was intact. No one in District 7, save for Laura and Tiffany, knew that Tiffany’s house, next door to Laura’s in Victor’s Village, had recently been populated with a new resident. 

It had been the safest plan that Carmilla, Laura and Tiffany could scrape together while on board the hovercraft. It had been a stroke of luck that they were so close to the Capitol when Carmilla woke up, as it minimised the chances of someone discovering the tribute that was supposed to be completely dead was, in fact, very much alive. But it was a double-edged sword, as it had allowed them precious few minutes to figure out how to get Carmilla safely and secretly off the hovercraft. 

In the end, it had been Tiffany who had come to the rescue. Laura had run to find her immediately after Carmilla had woken up - well immediately after a few minutes of distraction in the form of Carmilla's lips anyway - and she could still now remember the moment of reunion - rounding the corner and seeing Tiffany and Amanda turn in unison to see her. It had been an intense rush of relief, amidst the frantic questions from the hovercraft crew who had had an unpleasant shock when they discovered that their Victor had taken an unorthodox trip from her bed. She hadn’t quite realised, until that moment, how much she had missed them, and how deeply gratifying it was to see them again when all the odds had been stacked against them reuniting.

Then there was the subtle moment of taking Tiffany aside and divulging the news to her. Then smuggling Carmilla from the room where her presumed-dead body had been kept to an unused room closer to the exit where Tiffany could retrieve her from when the majority of the hovercraft crew had disembarked. Tiffany had then declared herself too sick to stay for Laura’s official crowning and had travelled straight back to District 7 with the apparently dead Carmilla, where she opened her home to her. Although it had been months before, Laura was still kept awake at night, wondering what would have happened if they hadn’t had Tiffany on their side, trying to solve her way out of Capitol officials and security systems and cameras and facial recognition technology until her head hurt.

“I guess you won’t have time to take some food down to the school today, what with you leaving soon,” her father commented. 

Lately, she had found a use for the excess food provided for her and her father. Her victory meant their District had been showered with more food than they’d known since Tiffany had won, but the amount delivered to Laura each week was bordering on ridiculous. Even with Carmilla coming over to help, they couldn’t have finished all the food themselves if their lives depended on it. So Laura took the excess down to public school most afternoons, remembering days she went hungry in her younger years when the school simply couldn’t provide lunch for the masses of children. 

“No,” Laura answered. “Maybe you could take it down for me?”

“I’m sure I could.” Her father smiled, but Laura could see the telltale signs of stress around his eyes. He hadn’t completely come to terms with the idea of Laura making a trip around the entire country without him, so soon after arriving back home. 

Well, not so soon actually. But every day that she had woken up in her room, in her own home and District instead of back in the dreaded arena, she had thanked her lucky stars. Each day that went by felt more and more precious for the simple fact that she wasn’t fighting for her life anymore. The time between leaving the arena and the present seemed to have passed in a blink of eye.

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. All three seated at the table looked at each other in surprise. All morning, people had been rushing in and out of the house, preparing Laura for her trip, before leaving in a giant gaggle so Laura and her father could have lunch before she left. Carmilla had snuck over when all signs of visitors were gone. But not once had anyone used the doorbell.

Carmilla was already out of her seat, face pale. 

“What are you going to do?” Laura mouthed to her, as an icy trickle of apprehension slid down her spine.

“I’ll hide in here. You get the doorbell, now.” Carmilla slipped inside the study, which was off the hall. Laura watched the door close on her worried face before hurrying down the hall. Her dad followed her uncertainly.

The doors opened to reveal President Vordernberg on her doorstep, removing a pair of leather gloves from his hands, a walking stick resting against his legs.

“Laura Hollis.” He smiled grandly as he pocketed the gloves in his large overcoat and extended his hand.

“President Vordenberg,” Laura returned after a beat, taking his outstretched hand. He shook it firmly, just once, then breezed past her into the house.

“No need to worry,” he chuckled, turning back to face her still in the doorway. “I’ve only come to see you off. It’s customary, you know, that the President be there to wish the Victor luck on their tour.”

“Yes, I - I knew that,” Laura responded, somewhat stiltedly, still recovering from the shock of the President’s unexpected visit. “But I thought you were going to be at the train station?” 

She hadn’t meant to end on a questioning note, but had faltered at the tail-end of her response. There was something about his knowing eyes that unnerved her.

“Of course I’ll be there as well, for ceremonial purposes. This is more of a private visit. Just to wish you luck, make sure everything is in place and ready to go.” He strode down the hall, into the dining room.

“Everything’s ready to go,” Laura confirmed, scurrying after him. “I’m super duper prepped and pumped to - um, see the Districts. And all that jazz. My father and I were just having lunch.”

“I see that,” Vordenberg said amiably. He eyed the plates with half-eaten meals still on the table. Laura glanced at them too - and her stomach dropped into her feet. Three plates on the table. As far as Vordenberg knew, only two people lived in this house.

He had noticed too. “Eating for two?” 

Laura had never been much of a liar and was, accordingly, not a very good one. Now she was suddenly forced into the role of master deceiver. It was not an easy job. Where did she put her hands? Did her voice sound strange? Was her face red?

She tried for a confident laugh. “I had second helpings. My Dad’s a great cook, you know. I have thirds usually.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re getting enough food,” was all he said. He turned on his heel, surveying the room and adjoining hall. “Now, there was a few things I wanted to talk to you about. Is there somewhere we can talk privately? In here, perhaps?”

With barely concealed horror, Laura watched him stroll towards the study door. She wanted to stop him, run after him, shout out. But was this a challenge? Did he already know who was in there? 

If he even suspected the truth, she couldn’t give him the impression that his suggestion bothered her in the slightest.

“Of course,” she said, in a voice that was only slightly strained. 

He swung open the door to reveal the study. Shrouds of curtains muffled the light entering through the wall-length window. The stately desk, with an ornate chair on one side and a leather armchair on the other, the tall, exquisitely crafted wardrobe and the bookshelf all looked imposing in the half-light. Thin layers of dust covered the surfaces. Neither she nor her father had been in this room since the house had come into their possession. 

Carmilla was nowhere in sight. Laura was pretty sure that meant she was in the wardrobe, unless she was hiding behind the curtains, which didn’t really seem like Carmilla’s style. 

“Now,” Vordenberg announced, settling himself into the chair on the far side of the desk. Laura took the armchair opposite. He didn’t seem surprised to find the room empty. Laura used this fact to reassure herself that he had no knowledge of Carmilla’s continued existence. He probably chose the study purely as a good space for a private chat. He would’ve been familiar with the its location, since all the houses in the Victor’s Villages in all Districts had identical layouts. She was definitely overreacting. “I just wanted to make sure everything was working out as it should be. No problems, I trust? Food, utilities, everything is fine?”

“Yes,” Laura replied.

“Good, good. Now, I thought I would give you a little rundown of the tour. You’ll start at District 6 and work your way down the Districts.”

Laura strained her ears for any sounds from the wardrobe. 

“And then, of course, at the Capitol, there will be a rather large celebration. That will be treated as a halfway point, as such, and you’ll stay for a little longer.”

What if Carmilla had allergies? It had to be pretty dusty in that wardrobe. Laura wasn’t sure how she would talk her way out of a sneezing fit from the wardrobe.

“Then there’s just the other Districts. Twelve, eleven and so on.”

She didn’t have a cold, did she? That could be just as bad. Maybe her nose was blocked and she had to breathe out of her mouth. Would Vordenberg be able to hear that in the silences?

“And then back to District 7! A small little ceremony, and then you’ll have just enough time to settle back in before the next games, whereby you’ll take up your new role as mentor,” Vordenberg finished.

“Great,” Laura said. “That’s, um … that’s great. I am definitely looking forward to it. Especially the Capitol. I’m looking forward to that … the most.” She was struggling to fill the silence, terrified the absence of words would be enough to unmask the sound of Carmilla’s breathing. 

“Well.” Vordenberg got to his feet. “That’s all I wanted to say. I’m glad everything is going well. I do hope”﹘he paused in the act of putting on his gloves﹘“that you weren’t too upset by the tragic death of the other District Seven tribute. Carmilla Karnstein.” 

Laura didn’t know what to say. She was silent for too long.

“It happens, sometimes. Tributes get too attached to their partner, and then they’re not able to enjoy the Victory properly. Very unfortunate. But I’m sure you won’t be that short-sighted, Laura.” He fixed his keen eyes on her. She felt paralysed under his gaze. “After all, the Games are about more than the girls and boys. The tributes are merely representatives for their District. The true meaning of the Games is the sacrifice those tributes signify. The payment.” He spoke not to Laura, but to a spot over her head. “It’s interesting, isn’t it, how the actions of so few can have such a profound effect. One wonders whether the rebels would’ve been foolish enough to attempt an uprising if they knew their sons and daughters would be the ones to pay for it for years to come.” He paused for a contemplative moment. “Yet, to this day, there are still those who want to upset the natural order of things. Filled with foolish, foolish ideas. No regard at all to consequences. It was disappointing, I must admit, to see those … unsatisfactory elements tarnish our last Games. But of course, all the perpetrators will be dealt with accordingly. Nothing to worry your precious head about. It’s a tiring game, I must say, but there’s no way around it. Those who seek more power than they are entitled to must be held accountable for their sins.” He abruptly switched his focus back to her. “And that, of course, is precisely why we have the Games.” He gave her a benevolent smile, then pulled his gloves on fully and strode from the room, his cane clicking on the floorboards. “I’ll let myself out, Miss Hollis, not to worry ... No, no, Mr. Hollis, stay where you are. I’ll find my way to the door.” 

His voice faded. Then his footsteps grew quieter. She heard the door shut and footsteps crunching down the gravel pathway. Finally, the rumble of a car signified his leaving. She let out her first easy breath since his arrival.

She turned to the wardrobe and swung the heavy doors open. A few coat-hangers swung on the rail, but other than that, it was empty. She swept aside the curtains, but they, too, didn’t reveal Carmilla. She turned on the spot, hands on her hips, searching for another hiding place. 

“Carmilla … you can come out now, you know.”

“Thank God,” Carmilla’s voice said. Laura turned to see her climbing through the windows, which were swinging open. She hadn’t even known they could open. “I thought he’d never leave.”

Carmilla grinned as she re-latched the windows.

“Wait - how did you get out there?” Laura asked stupidly, even though it was perfectly obvious she had climbed out the window and was now coming in the same way. She had meant something more like _how did you know the windows in my house opened when I didn’t even know that_ or _why did I assume you would be in the wardrobe_ but the unexpectedness of Carmilla’s appearance had made her sentences get confused on the way to her brain.

“You didn’t think I would stay in the house, did you? When the President was here and I am officially deceased?” She grinned at Laura. 

“No, I guess not” Laura admitted. 

“No,” Carmilla agreed, tucking a piece of hair behind Laura’s ear. Her lips quirked in amusement. “Are you aware you had pasta sauce on your head the entire time the president was here?”

“What? I did not!” 

“You did, and it's still there,” Carmilla laughed. She wet her thumb and swiped at Laura's forehead. 

“What are you, a cat?” Laura grumbled as Carmilla scrubbed at her. 

Carmilla simply grinned and pressed a kiss to the spot she'd just wiped clean, then left her forehead leaning against Laura's. Laura had to cross her eyes to continue glaring at her.

“I have to go,” Carmilla spoke softly after a moment. “Tiffany wants something.”

“Now?” Laura protested. “But I leave at six!”

“I know that, but so does she, so she wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t something important.”

Laura sighed. “Okay, but I’m coming over as soon as I’m ready to leave.” 

“Of course love.” 

***

Packing took no time at all. Once on the train Orazio would provide her with the outfits she would wear for the rest of the trip, so she didn’t bother with even a change of clothes. In a small bag she stacked several novels, a blank diary and a packet of cookies. Not that there wouldn’t be cookies on the train, but she had the entire car ride before that. And that would take at least ten minutes. 

Around her neck she wore the locket. Upon their safe return to District 7 she had tried to return it to Carmilla, but Carmilla wanted her to try and meet up with Mattie when she stopped at District 2 on the Victory Tour. It wasn’t unusual for the newest victor to socialise with other victors, so a meeting should be safe enough. 

Tiffany had contacted Mattie almost as soon as the three of them made it safely home, and she had been overjoyed to learn of her little sister’s survival. Carmilla even wrote to her sometimes, though she had to sign off as Tiffany and leave any details out of the letters, in case they were checked over by prying eyes before their delivery. 

Mattie, Tiffany and Laura’s dad were the only ones who knew of Carmilla’s true fate. They had decided not to tell Carmilla’s mother, for fear that she would be less than forgiving of her daughter ruining her grand plan. 

Laura carried her bag into the kitchen, where her father was washing up from lunch. This new house had a dishwasher, but her father refused to use it, instead preferring to do everything by hand. Laura suspected this was partly due to him not having a clue how to use the thing, but then again, neither did she. 

“A visit from the President!” Mr Hollis exclaimed as soon as Laura entered the room. “Now that’s something I never thought I’d see. What did he want?”

Laura grabbed a spare towel from the counter and helped her father dry the last few plates. “He was just checking I was all ready for the tour.”

“What happened to Carmilla?”

“She jumped out the window. Then hid in the garden ‘till he was gone.”

Her father shook his head. “A close call. It’s only been a few months, and we’ve had so many. Though nothing quite as serious as President Vordenberg himself discovering her.”

“It’ll calm down soon,” Laura promised. “Once there are new District 7 tributes for everyone to fawn over. We just have to keep being careful.”

“Careful is my middle name!” Mr Hollis grinned. He was more accepting of the difficult situation than Laura ever could have hoped, considering the punishment for being found concealing Carmilla from the Capitol would be nothing less than a public hanging for all of them. 

Laura smiled gratefully at him, and gave him quick hug. “I’m going next door to say goodbye. I’ll meet you in the car.”

***

Carmilla tossed a letter onto the spotless counter top. It skidded towards Laura, who was seated on a stool at the counter, and she eyed the ragged edge where Carmilla had opened it.

“Who’s it from?” Laura asked. Carmilla was gripping the counter top, knuckles white with agitation. Tiffany’s kitchen was identical in layout to Laura’s, but filled with less ingredients that were waiting to be used in Laura father’s next culinary adventure. 

“Mattie,” Carmilla replied.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked, because something obviously was.

Carmilla was silent for a moment, mouth open but no words open. She flexed her jaw, glancing down at her hands. Then she said, “My mother is dead.”

“ _Dead_?!” Laura asked, possibly insensitively. In any normal situation, she would’ve offered her condolences. But this was not a normal situation. So the next thing she asked was, “How?”

“Unknown. Which means the Capitol did it,” Carmilla said tersely.

 _Dead_. It had only been a half hour or so ago when Laura had thought of Lilita Morgan, wondering how she would react if she found out Carmilla was still alive. She had been picturing her in the mansion Carmilla had talked about, trying to figure out how to recover from her failure. In reality, she must have been dead for at least a day for this information to have come to Carmilla.

“Why?” Laura asked softly, aware that she was still talking in single-syllable format, but unable to form sentences that were any longer. 

Carmilla picked up the envelope and pulled out the letter. Shaking it open with one hand, she scanned her eyes down the length of it.

“They found out. About the plan, everything. I don’t know how. Unless it was … well, us, talking about it in the arena. I thought they wouldn’t have heard, but …”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that,” Laura said quickly. “We were whispering, remember? They must have only recently found out. It was a pretty complicated plan. All the kids that were involved … they probably had suspicions about her for a while.”

She thought of Carmilla marching onto stage at the Reaping before her name had been called. She thought of the fact that none of the Careers had made it into the final three this year - beaten by two tributes from Districts 4 and 7. And Laura. But Laura hadn’t scored an eleven like Will, or even a ten like Carmilla. 

She didn’t say any of this, because she didn’t want Carmilla to blame herself for the death of a women who, in Laura’s opinion, deserved what she got. But she thought to herself that even if Carmilla hadn’t completely given her mother’s plan away, her suspicious behaviour may have been what pushed it over the edge, what turned a series of strange but isolated events into the uncovering of all of Lilita Morgan’s plans.

“Laura! You’re not still here, are you?” Tiffany asked, striding into the kitchen. “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving for the tour?”

“Yeah,” Laura said, unmoving. She had so much more to say. She wanted to tell Carmilla it wasn’t her fault. That she shouldn’t feel guilty. That this was a blessing for her, to be free of her controller. 

But it would have to wait. Laura tore her eyes away from Carmilla’s face - her eyebrows were lowered over her uncertain eyes, her hair hanging in waves - and stood to kiss her swiftly on the cheek. When she drew away, she thought Carmilla looked a fraction less troubled, but she couldn’t be sure.

Tiffany left the room to give them some privacy, and Carmilla pulled Laura into a hug, resting her head on Laura’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Laura promised. 

“You better be,” Carmilla said. She turned her head and smiled - perhaps only for Laura’s sake, but a smile all the same. 

Laura smiled back - she couldn’t help it when Carmilla looked at her like that - and leaned forward to kiss her softly. She didn’t lose herself in the moment, instead she did her best to stay hyper aware of everything, to memorise the feeling and take it with her. The sensation of Carmilla’s lips against hers, the feel of Carmilla’s nose bumping hers, the way Carmilla’s hair twisted through her fingers. 

Carmilla took her hand and led her to the front door, where a car waited out the front of Laura’s house. This was as far as Carmilla could go. 

"I -,” Laura opened her mouth and shut it again. Someone called her name from outside. It was past time to go. “I just- um. Bye.”

"Bye." Carmilla kissed her again, just once, and let their hands drop, so Laura could slip through the front door alone. 

She hated to leave with unsaid words burning in her throat. But she would be back, and then she would have all the time in the world to say everything she had ever wanted to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it folks! Thank you so much to everyone to everyone who supported, read, and left kudos on our little story. A Carmilla x Hunger Games crossover is very much a niche story and we're flattered and so pleased that so many of you enjoyed it.
> 
> Most of all thank you to everyone who commented and helped us learn what worked best and what didn't; your feedback worked to help us both become better writers. 
> 
> Thanks also to my sister who undertook this project with me, and who won't see this until around midday because she's still asleep. You're a "champ". ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every Friday evening, or Saturday mornings for our fellow Aussies. 
> 
> Co-written with my sister, who doesn't have tumblr but you can find me at hollsteinmon.tumblr.com
> 
> Title from Blood Stutter by Handsome Ghost
> 
> Amanda and Tiffany belong to SimGM productions.


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